


Persephone Rising

by girl_with_the_tarot_tattoos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940's au, F/M, Slytherine things, TW: disordered eating, not especially canon compliant, references to warcrimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 34,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_with_the_tarot_tattoos/pseuds/girl_with_the_tarot_tattoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now, the Nome King had never tried to be good, so he was very bad indeed."<br/>-  The Emerald City of Oz, by L. Frank Baum</p><p>Ever wonder what if Tom Riddle had a reason to try to be different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Companion fic to my other WIP The Garden

            “There’s a new girl on the train.  Have you seen her?”  Astrid Flint asked from the compartment door.  
            Abraxas Malfoy sneered, “there’s always a whole year of new girls on the train.  Every year.  Haven’t you realized that by now, Astrid?”  
            “Really?  I hadn’t realized.  Suddenly the world makes sense.”  Astrid levered herself into the compartment and flopped onto a seat mostly occupied by Julius McNair.  “This one is different; she’s our age and I’ve never seen her before in my life.”  
            “And this is important, why?” Julius asked testily.  Astrid was all bony points and sharp elbows when she flopped and Julius hadn’t moved out of her way quite quickly enough.  
            Astrid sighed.  “New students just don’t show up at Hogwarts, not past first year.  So, who is she?  Where did she come from?”  
            “There _is_ a war going on, you know,” Abraxas replied, smirking at Julius, who was surreptitiously rubbing his side.  
            “And here I thought they were rationing stockings and sweets just to be mean,” Druella Parkinson said with a falsetto trill of laughter.  
            Tom Riddle, who had been looking out the window during this exchange, winced at Druella’s laughter.  He would have to speak to Abraxas.  Druella was tolerable enough when she quietly hung on Abraxas’ arm like a pretty ornament, but Tom couldn’t stand her half-witted twittering.  
            “I need some air,” Tom said, getting up from his seat.  “And space,” he added with a pointed look at Abraxas who was trying to stand and detach Druella at the same time.  Abraxas took the none too subtle hint.  
            “Pop in on the mystery girl,” Astrid suggested with a predatory smile and theatrical flutter of her eyelashes.  “I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to chat with a handsome fellow such as yourself, Tom Riddle.”

 

            Tom had no intention of following Astrid’s suggestion.  He walked along the train’s swaying corridor, absentmindedly dodging other students and contemplating what sort of “accident” he should arrange for Druella when he found himself standing in the doorway of a compartment staring at a remarkably pretty girl.  She was gazing dreamily out the window, her chin cupped in one slender palm, her dark chocolaty hair carelessly twisted up with her wand.  Her other hand rested in her lap, on the cover of a slim book whose title was just visible, _Les Fleurs du mal_.  Catching sight of Tom’s reflection she turned.  The enclosed wicker basket next to her thumped.  
            “Hello,” she said with the ghost of a smile.  She had the most amazing blue eyes Tom had ever seen.  They were shades of blue, dark around the rims of the iris lightening towards the pupil.  The basket thumped again and she turned to it quickly with a smile.  
            “Shush, it is okay Matayas.  The gentleman was just going to sit down.”  She looked back up at Tom with a disarming smile. “Will you?”  
            Tom sat.  
            “I have not seen you around Hogwarts before, are you a new student?” he asked.  
            “Oh yes, I am new here.  And apparently quite an attraction,” she said, casting a quick glance at the compartment door where a couple of giggling third years were peeking in and then quickly ducking back out of sight.  Returning her attention to Tom she continued, “I studied at Beauxbatons.”  
            “That is on the continent, correct?”  
            “Yes…in France.”  She dropped her eyes and shifted slightly in her seat, her face carefully blank.  Tom could tell she didn’t want to be asked about France.  The silence stretched awkwardly.  
            “I am so sorry, where have my manners gone?  My name is Tom Riddle.”  Tom flashed his most charming smile and extended a hand towards her.  She hesitated briefly before shaking his hand with a dazzling smile of her own.  
            “My name is Leliana Vallen.” Her accent was unusual, layered. He could hear the French in it, but there were shades of other things as well, as though she had spent years speaking with people who didn’t speak proper, British, English – even though she obviously did.  
            “What were you reading?” he asked, mostly to keep the conversation flowing. Patching up stalled conversations was tedious and she had such a lovely voice – smooth and soothing, the sort that could lull a heard of hippogryphs, mid-rampage, into a trance-like sleep.  
            “Les Fleurs du mal, by Baudelaire.  Have you read it?”  
            Tom blushed slightly. “I cannot read French.”  
            “Oh, I keep forgetting; hardly anyone at Beauxbatons read Baudelaire either.  Let us discuss a more common interest.  Tell me about studying magic at Hogwarts.  I am afraid I will be so behind.”

 

            The remainder of their time on the train passed in a blur and all too soon they were approaching Hogsmead station. Tom had thoroughly enjoyed Leliana’s company; she laughed easily, was suitably impressed with his charms and other wandwork, and, best of all, didn’t giggle and fawn over him – her regard was genuine and understated. It also didn’t hurt that she was beautiful. At first glance Tom had noticed she was remarkably pretty but the longer he spent with her the more he noticed how beautiful she really was. He found that surprising; in his experience most people became less interesting upon acquaintance. Tom stepped out of the compartment so Leliana could change into her school robes, as he was already wearing his, having changed into them practically as soon as he had boarded the train. Leliana tapped the window to indicate she had finished changing and he reentered the compartment, stopping short when he saw her tie; it was Ravenclaw colors.  
            “Have you already been sorted?” he asked.  
            “Sorted?” Leliana quirked her brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”  
            “Your tie,” he motioned to it and she shrank away from the sudden gesture slightly. “It is supposed to be in your house colors, but you cannot know those until you have been sorted, by the sorting hat, at the start of term feast.”  
            She looked frightened and confused by his reaction, not understanding the house divisions and why them being in different houses was a problem.  
            “I came to the school over the summer, shortly after my return from France, with my grandparents.” Leliana was anxiously twisting her fingers together, uncertain and seemingly anxious of alienating the first fellow student she had actually met. “The headmaster read the letters from my instructors at Beauxbatons, made me take some tests and then put a manky old hat on my head. Is that sorting?”  
            Tom felt an inexplicable wave of disappointment.  
            “It certainly sounds like you have been sorted,” he sighed. “This means we are in different houses.”  
            “Is that so bad?” she asked in a small voice. Her wicker basket thumped again, but she didn’t react; her attention was fixed on Tom.  
            “It means we cannot sit together at meals, we will not have all our classes together and most people spend their free time in their house common rooms, with their housemates. Our houses will also be competing against each other for the house cup.”  
            “So,” she paused uncertainly, “that means we cannot be friends?” She looked crestfallen and Tom felt the stirrings of an unfamiliar emotion.  
            “Certainly not,” he said authoritatively. “It just means it will be harder to spend time together.” _And you’ll spend a lot of time alone with the boys in your own house_ he thought, surprised that he cared who she spent her time with.  
            “I am so glad,” she breathed, catching hold of his hand impulsively. “You are the first person nice enough to actually speak to me. Everyone else just gawked at me then hurried away when I said ‘hello.’”  
            Tom found her touch pleasant, but unsettling. People rarely touched him, it just wasn’t done, and never like this, in friendship and out of affection. He associated physical contact with punishment, retaliation and domination. She may have also been the first person, ever, to have called him “nice.” She felt him tense at her touch, bit the edge of her lower lip and watched him closely, waiting for him to squeeze back. When he didn’t she started to release his hand and step away, worried she had over stepped a boundary she hadn’t even realized existed. At the last second, Tom caught hold of her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.  
            “Do you need help with your luggage, or anything?” he asked softly, his eyes on their joined hands.  
            “I might, it is such a long walk to the castle,” she was biting her lower lip again nervously and watching him through her lashes.  
            “We do not walk all the way to the castle; the first years go by boat and everyone else takes the horseless carriages.”  
            Leliana look up at him and smiled.  
            “Horseless carriages? You are teasing me!” Her smile was radiant, like a candle in a dark room.  
            “No, I am not,” Tom insisted, raising his hands defensively. “Honest truth, I swear it. Must be some sort of magic, or something,” he said with a shrug and she laughed. The train was slowing as it neared the station. Tom was about to say something about needing to fetch his trunk when it stopped with a sharp jolt that knocked Leliana off balance. Reflexively, she reached out to catch her balance, and reflexively, to his surprise, he caught her by the waist to steady her. Leliana placed a hand on top of his and blushed. They stayed like that for a long moment until the sounds of people in the surrounding compartments preparing to get off the train broke the spell. They sprang apart like startled deer, each trying to regain their calm and act casually.  
            “Would you be so kind as to get my case down from the rack, please,” Leliana asked pointing to a slim, solitary suitcase. Wordlessly, Tom retrieved it and handed it to her; she thanked him prettily as she took it.  
            “I should be able to find my own way,” Leliana said softly, her face carefully adverted, “if you should like to rejoin your friends.” She tucked her copy of Les Fleurs du mal into her shoulder bag and then collected her case and wicker basket.  
            “I will just look in on my friends, but I would rather walk with you,” he replied, touching her upper arm gently. “If you do not mind?”  
            “I do not mind at all.” Leliana turned to him with one of her glowing smiles and he found himself smiling back. The train’s corridor was crowded with students and Tom reached over and took Leliana’s case from her, transferring it to his other hand so that he could catch hold of her now empty hand and lead her behind him. He glanced in the compartment he had earlier occupied, but it was empty. _Abraxas probably saw to it_ , _probably to make up for Druella_. He sincerely hoped they broke up soon.  
            “Looks like my friends have taken my trunk,” he said to Leliana as he ushered her out of the train.  
            “That was kind of them. You are fortunate to be blessed with thoughtful friends.”  
            “Sometimes more thoughtful than others,” he laughed as Leliana beamed up at him. People were staring, as they often did. He was one of the handsomest boys in his year, if not the school, and he was walking hand in hand with the beautiful and mysterious new girl. He loved the admiration and envy he saw in the faces of those around him, including his fellow Slytherins with whom he had been sharing a compartment earlier. Astrid had the same look on her face as she had when she accidently inhaled a bee during Herbology their second year. It was priceless. Julius’ eyebrows had risen high enough to vanish beneath his shaggy hair and Abraxas was smirking lasciviously while Druella regarded Leliana with hostility.  
            “Look, there are the horseless carriages.” Tom motioned towards the carriages with the hand holding her case and Leliana excitedly strained to look. The others were approaching and Tom leveled a warning glare at them.  
            “Oh,” Leliana breathed in delight. “I knew you were teasing me! Thestrals are not really horses, but you made it sound like the carriages moved all by themselves.” Tom looked at Leliana sharply, then checked the reactions of the others. They all looked as confused as he felt; apparently they saw nothing either.  
            “What are you taking about?” Druella asked nastily. “There’s nothing there. The carriages move by themselves.”  
            Leliana spun back to face them, her smile dying quickly.  
            “You cannot see them?” she asked in a small voice, her face falling further as each of them shook their heads.  
            “Not everyone can, Miss Vallen.” Professor Merrythought seemed to have materialized out of thin air, causing them all to start in surprise.  
            “I-I know that,” Leliana said shakily. “It is just,” she paused, “so many could see them at Beauxbatons, it never occurred to me it would not be the same here.” She drew away from the Slytherins, towards Merrythought, who put a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
            “I’ll take that, Mr. Riddle,” Merrythought said in her gravely voice, taking Leliana’s case. “If you would come with me, Miss Vallen, there’s a good girl.” Merrythought had established an iron grip on her upper arm and Leliana looked longingly back at Tom before she was spirited away, out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

            Tom was in a particularly foul mood as he sat at his house table in the great hall. He kept wondering why he couldn’t see what Leliana had seen pulling the carriages. The carriage ride to the castle had been especially trying. His fellow passengers could talk about nothing but Leliana’s revelation and subsequent disappearance. Astrid had peppered him with questions, which he had ignored. He finally used a nonverbal spell to give her a nosebleed, which did a marvelous job of shutting her up. Tom noted, again, irritably that there was still no sign of Leliana at the Ravenclaw table, not that he was looking for her. He happened to notice that Professor Merrythought was also absent from the start of term feast and that the headmaster had stepped out for a rather long interval after the sorting was completed. People kept trying to talk to him, their voices droning like insects which he ignored while pushing food around on his plate. “Feast” seemed like a wildly optimistic term for the meal in front of him. While the wizarding world wasn’t subject to as harsh of rationing as muggles, tonight’s meal raised dire forebodings about the food quality for the rest of term. Tom sighed and glanced at the Ravenclaw table again. Abraxas, who had been watching him closely since they arrived at the castle, followed his gaze.  
            “She’s still not there,” he remarked to Tom. Getting no response, Abraxas decided to push a little more. “I wonder what that girl saw, if anything. You don’t think she’s a bit…touched… in the head, or something, do you?”  
            Abraxas slid a sideling look at Tom, trying to gauge his reaction. A muscle twitched in Riddle’s cheek, but he made no other indication of having heard him. Abraxas shifted his weight uneasily while he mulled over what to do or say next. Tom Riddle had a filthy temper and could be as cold bloodedly merciless as their house emblem when crossed. Abraxas’ curiosity was being pitted against his sense of self preservation and he waffled with indecision. Tired of playing with food he had no interest in eating Tom abruptly rose from his seat and strode out of the great hall, rendering Abraxas’ conflicting interests moot.  
            “What’s got his wand in a knot?” Julius asked, after the doors closed behind Riddle.  
            Abraxas merely shrugged irritably and continued eating, his mind busy puzzling over the day’s events – the appearance of the new girl, what she could have seen pulling the carriages, and, most of all, Riddle’s strange behavior.

 

            Tom strode towards the Slytherin common room with long ground eating strides, irritation and uncertainty buzzing in his mind like a swarm of wasps. _Where is she?_ He thought over and over like a mantra. Suddenly he found himself in front of the wall leading to the common room and realized that he had completely forgotten the password. _Bloody hell!_ He tried all the previous passwords, with growing annoyance that he seemed to remember every password – except the current one – and when none of those worked he swore at the wall for good measure. The entrance remained stubbornly shut, confirming that the password was different from any used in the last four years, and not profanity. Tom glowered at the wall while he reviewed his options. He could return to the great hall and try to get the password again from one of the senior prefects – which would be embarrassing and demeaning, do some further exploring of the castle looking for the chamber of secrets – which would be problematic to explain if he crossed any teachers, and he might lose track of time and end up locked out of the common room all night. Tom scowled and leaned against the wall, neither option was especially appealing. _Or…_ His mind made up, he headed to the library. He could do some research on the more obscure branches of magic and, thanks to the large clock on the wall, time his return to the common room so he wouldn’t be seen waiting around for someone else to let him in. If his research didn’t turn up anything new or interesting the trip wouldn’t be a total loss because he could browse the restricted section unobserved. It was an excellent plan.


	3. Chapter 3

            The new girl was sitting in one of the windows of the dorm room absently stroking the large rabbit in her lap and toying with the pendent she was wearing on a silvery thin chain around her neck. Jolene froze just inside the doorway. She had known as soon as she saw the room assignments that the new girl was in in their house, assigned to the same room as her, but actually seeing her there was still somehow unexpected.  
            Jolene could tell she knew she was no longer alone, even though she hadn’t acknowledged that anyone had entered the room; she noticed little things like that after years of watching people. Tanis Gray and Kitty Marsden shouldered past her with contemptuous looks and approached the new girl.  
            “You must be _Lily-anna Val-Len_ ,” Tanis said, flipping her hair with a bold smile.  
            Leliana turned and regarded them incuriously for a moment. “Yes, I am Leliana Vallen,” she finally said, correcting Tanis’ pronunciation of her name.  
            “I’m Tanis. Tanis Gray, and this is Kitty Marsden,” Tanis plowed on. She and Kitty bared their teeth at Leliana wolfishly.  
            “Enchanté,” Leliana replied crisply before turning back to the window.  
            “What a beautiful rabbit!” Kitty exclaimed reaching over, undaunted by Leliana’s impersonal politeness.  
            “Beauty is often cruel; he bites.”  
            Kitty’s hand dropped quickly.  
            Jolene watched Kitty and Tanis exchange an uncomfortable look. _You’re being too pushy_ she thought. _Can’t you tell she wants to be left alone?_ Jolene sat heavily on the edge of her bed and picked at her nails, relieved to finally be invisible again; she’d had her fill of her former friends’ attention for the day. Tanis was only a second generation witch, both of her parents had been muggle born; Kitty was a half blood, her father was a muggle. When they had started as first years the three of them had been fast friends, bonded by their “impure” blood in a society obsessed with bloodlines and breeding. However, gradually but definitively, Tanis and Kitty had grown closer until they finally turned on her and their trio was whittled down to a duo over the summer. Kitty and Tanis, who had never cared that she was muggle-born before, now snubbed her and called her a mudblood. Their sudden malice was more painful than being invisible, forgotten by her parents, or the indifferent cruelty sometimes inflicted by their classmates and she had no desire to draw their attention to herself now.  
            “That’s a pretty necklace, _Lil-ee-anna_ ,” Tanis said, oblivious to the way Leliana grimaced at her pronunciation. “What’s it supposed to be?”  
            “It is my initials… in Enochian,” Leliana responded cautiously.  
            “What’s that?” Kitty asked, scrunching up her face. She had never liked when she discovered something she knew nothing about, Jolene reflected. Tanis looked equally quizzical.  
            “It’s the language of Angels,” Jolene blurted out, and immediately regretted it when all three girls turned to look at her. Leliana, however, suddenly smiled, scoped up her rabbit and walked past Tanis and Kitty to sit on Jolene’s bed.  
            “You are familiar with Enochian?” Leliana asked with a smile. “Ai hai Lilitu?”  
            Jolene watched Leliana uncomfortably for a moment before responding. “I’ve read about Enochian, but I didn’t know anyone actually spoke it,” she finally ventured.  
            “It is mostly just written, and used in wards,” Leliana said. She glanced at the other two girls in the room and then drew her hand in a sweeping motion, like wiping steam off a mirror, across the space in front of them. The air rippled like water in the wake of the motion. “They can see out lips move, but they cannot hear what we are saying,” she explained at Jolene’s questioning look.  
            Jolene shrank back, uncertain and uneasy.  
            “I am sorry, where are my manners?” Leliana said softly with an encouraging smile. “Jolene, this is Matayas,” she said, motioning to her rabbit. “Matayas, this is Jolene. She is our new roommate. You must not be mean to her, she has had enough unkindness in her life.”  
            “Why did you name him ‘Matches,’ it’s kind of a funny name,” Jolene asked shyly.  
            “It is not Matches, its Matayas,” Leliana said enunciating carefully. “Matthew, in Hungarian. I named him after Viktor and Erzsebet’s other brother, although, he has such a quick temper ‘Matches’ would also be fitting.” She regarded Jolene thoughtfully. “Why are you so sad?”  
            “I’m not sad,” Jolene said quickly. _Lonely and invisible_ , she thought, but she didn’t really think of herself as ‘sad’.  
            Leliana tilted her head quizzically. “Friends should be honest with each other, Jolene.”  
            Jolene blinked quickly in surprise; most people didn’t see her, and those who did made it clear they didn’t want to be friends with her. “Y-you want us to be friends?” she asked tentatively.  
            “Of course!” Leliana replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world that someone such as herself would rather be friends with an awkward wallflower like Jolene than vivacious, pretty girls like Tanis and Kitty.  
            “B-but, why?” Jolene peeked at Leliana from behind a sheaf of stringy, dull auburn hair.  
            Leliana reached over casually and brushed Jolene’s hair back from her face. “You have such lovely eyes, like peridots. It is a shame to hide them.” She turned to watch Tanis and Kitty spitefully whispering together for a moment before continuing. “You know about Enochian and I like your stillness. I think we are very much the same – surrounded by people, and still so very much alone. _They_ ,” she motioned to Tanis and Kitty subtly, “cannot understand us, they do not know how to _listen_. People like that hear only what they want and get angry when they do not. They are lively but shallow water, whereas you are still and deep.”  
            Jolene was surprised at her perceptiveness, how quickly she saw those traits in Kitty and Tanis it had taken her four years to recognize.  
            “You’ve recently come from France, right?” Jolene asked carefully.  
            Leliana tipped her chin in a shallow nod.  
            “I’m sorry,” she said simply. “I can’t imagine it was … very pleasant … getting out of there; my dad died at Dunkirk, of s-septicemia.”  
            “I am sorry for your loss,” Leliana said softly, and unlike when others had said it, she sounded sincere. “My mother also died in France, quite recently. What was his name?”  
            “Frank,” Jolene whispered. No one had ever asked her his name before; he was just another dead soldier, one of thousands. “Y-your mum, what was her name?”  
            “Marjolaine,” replied Leliana with a haunted look. Her eyes were like the deep ocean; Jolene could see dark memories lurking beneath the surface, extending their grasping tentacles like kraken, reaching up from the cold blackness to pull her down into the depths.  
            “Th-that’s a pretty name. I’m sorry she died.”  
            “I am also sorry,” Leliana said softly. Matayas thumped and jumped off Jonele’s bed, dispelling the somber atmosphere. “It is getting late and I think I must be tired,” Leliana said suddenly with a small, artificial smile. “Good night, Jolie.” She reached over and squeezed Jolene’s hand before getting up and walking over to her bed. Jolene shivered. Leliana’s hand had been icy cold, and she felt a lingering chill on her skin where Leliana had touched. She hadn’t known it was possible for a living person’s hands to be so cold.  
            “Bonne nuit, Matayas,” Leliana said softly, pointing to his cage. The rabbit obediently hopped in and she bent down to fasten the door.  
            Jolene watched Leliana out of the corner of her eye as she prepared for bed. Whereas she, Tanis and Kitty furtively changed into their nightclothes, Leliana unselfconsciously stripped off her garments before sliding into a gossamer slip. The drapes were still open and Leliana’s pale skin seemed to glow in the risen moon’s slivery light. Suddenly Jolene noticed something on her back – interlocking septimus circles overlaying vertical lines of strange text – virtually invisible, except when it glinted, faintly pearlescent, in the moonlight. A warding sigil. It was old, deep, Apotropaic magic; the sort she had read about in dusty ancient books, but no one seemed to know how to use it anymore. Jolene felt a chill. _Someone_ had magically branded that ward into Leliana’s skin; it must have hurt terribly. She wondered uneasily when and why it was done.  
            Unconcernedly Leliana slipped on a lightweight silk kimono-style robe and picked up her bag of toiletries, leaving the room to brush her teeth. Jolene quickly followed; she did not want to be left alone with Kitty and Tanis.


	4. Chapter 4

            Leliana turned up at breakfast the next morning, hunched over her hot cereal looking hallow-eyed and grim. Tom watched her out of the corner of his eye as he chatted with his followers about class assignments and half listened while the others banged on about how they had spent their summer. No one asked much about his summer; they knew the questions were unwelcome. He noticed Leliana had been approached by Jack Stubbins, a chaser on Ravenclaw’s quiddich team. Stubbins was a popular and well liked fellow. Apparently he was also a fair quiddich player and admired by many girls, who seemed to find him “funny” and “good looking” Astrid was informing him; not that he had asked.  
            “And why should I care?” he asked, sardonically arching a brow. Druella twittered; he ground his teeth and violently speared a potato with his fork. Astrid’s ice gray eyes flicked between him and Druella and the hint of a secret smile momentarily curved her lips. Tom watched Astrid for a moment, intrigued, and their eyes briefly met with a flash of understanding. _It seems I have an ally,_ he thought bemusedly, _and Druella an unexpected enemy_. Things were going to get interesting.  
            “Perhaps someone should warn poor Stubbins he’s poaching.” Astrid leaned forward, brushing a sheaf of white-blond hair back from her face, her smile sharp and predatory. “After all, no one likes a poacher.” Any doubt he may have harbored evaporated; Astrid definitely wanted something, possibly something not so different from what he himself wanted. She was only helpful when it suited her machinations.  
            “Don’t be silly Az,” Druella sniffed, trying for disdain but falling short. “Someone’s only a poacher if they’re hunting someone else’s game. No one’s set their cap on that freak; as I see it, he’s welcome to her.”  
            Druella tossed her head and looked to Abraxas for approval, who avoided her eyes and apologetically grimaced at Tom. A nasty billowing silence unfurled, causing Druella to flush with embarrassment, uncertain of her misstep. Julius changed the subject, smoothing the moment over in misguided mercy. Or perhaps Julius, always so quick and clever, had predicted the current’s flow and was positioning himself to snap up Druella on the rebound once Abraxas discarded her. He would need to speak with Julius and make it clear that Druella was no longer welcome, but that was a discussion for a later time, more pressing matters presently required his attention. Once again covertly monitoring the Ravenclaw table, Tom felt a surge of triumph as Leliana rebuffed Stubbins’ advances. He would bide his time, uncover her secrets and draw her in slowly. If needs be he would arrange accidents for any potential competition, Astrid might help with that, if it suited her own goals. He finished his breakfast with the complacent satisfaction that comes with always getting one’s way.

 

            Tom chafed with irritation, the morning’s lessons were dragging by so slowly, he couldn’t wait for Herbology that afternoon with the Ravenclaws. He couldn’t wait to see Leliana. As far as anyone could tell, he was paying rapt attention to Dumbledore’s transfiguration lecture, and he mostly was, except for the part of his brain worrying over the puzzle of Leliana Vallen like a terrier on the hunt. His quill scriched notes on switching spells across the parchment but the now familiar mantra whirled around his mind. _Where did she go?_ His note taking, and obsessing, was interrupted by an insistent sharp poking at his arm. It was a note from Astrid, folded into a paper crane and pecking at him insistently. He snatched it up, cast a quick, covert glance to make sure no one was watching and read it quickly. _Lunch. Library_. Astrid’s note was brief and to the point. Tom caught her eye and jerked a nod which she acknowledged with a quick smile. He reflected that while Astrid smiled often, it rarely reached her eyes, unlike Leliana… He caught himself beginning to daydream and willed himself to focus on Dumbledore’s lecture, which was still recapping things he already knew.

 

            The interminable lesson over, he claimed he forgot something in the common room and needed to go pick it up. It was a hasty excuse, and a poor one at that – he rarely deigned to run this sort of errand himself, he usually made others fetch things for him. Abraxas offered to accompany him, but he waived the offer off, saying he preferred to go alone. When he was sure no one was following he doubled back and headed towards the library wondering what exactly Astrid wanted and that it had better not take too long. He was nearing the library when he heard a sharp hiss to his right. Glancing over he saw Astrid standing in the doorway of an empty classroom motioning him over. Narrowing his eyes, he sighed and joined her, closing the door behind himself.  
            “You took your time,” Astrid accused, angrily flipping her hair over her shoulder and folding her arms across her chest.  
            “I had to get away. I assumed you wanted me to come alone?” he spat impatiently. “How did you get here so fast?”  
            “Ditched the girls in the loo. Easy as pie.”  
            “Get to the point Astrid, what do you want?” Tom had no patience for small talk, he was hungry and rapidly getting bored.   
            “An alliance,” she said bluntly. “We both want Abraxas to break up with Druella, and stay broken up with her.”  
            “Yes,” he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall in a deceptively lazy pose. “I know why I want that, why do you?”  
            “I want Abraxas for myself,” Astrid stated matter of factly. “I want to be mistress of Malfoy Manor and security for my brother and myself.”  
            Tom blinked at her bluntness, her naked ambition; he wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but it wasn’t that.  
            “Abraxas is not the Malfoy heir, he is only the second son,” he reminded her, intrigued.  
            “That will be dealt with once I’m his wife” Astrid calmly replied.  
            “Oh?” he prompted, eyebrows arching with open curiosity. Their conversation had suddenly gotten far more interesting than he had expected.  
            “Accidents happen.” Astrid’s sweet smile clashed jarringly with her words. “Accidents happen all the time. Hundreds of senseless little tragedies, but life goes on.”  
            He was impressed, in spite of himself. Part of him had always known Astrid was ruthless, but he hadn’t fully appreciated how deep that streak ran until now.  
            “Would it not be simpler just to marry Argos?”  
            “No. Argos is a selfish, spoiled prat; he’d never give me what I want. I mean to be a partner, the _managing partner_ , not a glorified servant and brood mare. Besides, he’s wary of social climbers and treasure hunters. And there’s too much competition,” Astrid said tiredly, annoyed at having to explain something she considered so patently obvious. “I can win Abraxas. He’s ambitious, but suggestible. I can shape him into what I want, make him who I need him to be. But I’ll need your help.” Astrid leveled her glacial eyes on him, intent and serious, her usual coquetry absent.  
            “And why would I help you?” He stepped closer, closing the space between them. Testing her. Astrid did not back away, eyes cold and hard, no flirtation masking how formidable she really was. She leaned closer.  
            “You’ll help me because it helps you.”  
            “How so?”  
            “The Malfoy family is rich and well connected. You are talented and ambitions, but you have no money, connections or status. Argos inheriting wouldn’t help either of us. Abraxas, on the other hand…” Astrid trailed off suggestively.  
            _Clever chit_ Tom thought. She was right, naturally; Abraxas would be much more useful as the Malfoy heir than as the second son.  
            “You have answered how Abraxas’ elevation would benefit me, but not why I would help you. What do I get for helping you?”  
            “I’ll help you get the new girl. Her, for Abraxas,” Astrid replied quickly, a touch too quickly. She had planned this offer, meaning it was more to her benefit than his.  
            “I can get her for myself, no assistance necessary. Try again.” He was enjoying this exchange, curious to see how badly Astrid wanted his help, how much she would offer to get it.  
            “My loyalty,” Astrid offered it grandly, her eyes snapping.  
            “Your loyalty,” he scoffed. “You are a mercenary. Your loyalty only stretches as far as your own interests.”  
            “Abraxas is your best friend, he’d follow you to hell and back. His future hinges on yours. If you help me catch him your interests will be my interests, you’ll never have reason to doubt my loyalty, my children’s loyalty and their children’s loyalty. I mean to climb so high I’ll never be dragged down, even if I have to carry the both of you to do it.” Astrid’s eyes flashed and her jaw jutted obstinately. He believed she meant every word. _She could also be quite useful_ , he mused. He could use her to further his own interests, and if she were to be discovered, it could never be traced back to him. _Very useful indeed_.  
            “I will help you, in return for your unerring loyalty. Just remember this, Astrid Flint: I _will_ help you rise, but if you _ever_ cross me, ever so much as _think_ of crossing me, I will cast you down and make you wish you had never been born.”  
            “I accept your terms, we have a deal. Abraxas’ relationship with Druella will be nothing but an unhappy memory.”  
            “Looking forward to it. I am going to lunch.” Tom strode to the door. “Wait a bit to follow. We should not be seen together. People might think we are up to something, or worse, that we are an item, which is gossip I am sure neither of us wants,” he said over his shoulder as he left the classroom.  
            “Of course,” Astrid responded with a curt nod as walked over to stare out the classroom windows. “People might get the wrong idea.” She had quite a bit of thinking to do.


	5. Chapter 5

            Tom caught sight of Leliana as soon as he entered the greenhouse. She was standing slightly apart from the other students, stroking a Devil’s Snare whose leaves were vibrating softly under her touch. Stubbins and several others, including the reining Ravenclaw 5th year beauty, Prudence MacCormack, were watching her covertly and chatting amongst themselves with forced casualness. As if she sensed his attention, Leliana looked over at him and smiled brightly. Stubbins followed Leliana’s gaze, recognized Tom, and his shoulders sagged slightly, the sight of which gave him a mean spirited rush of satisfaction. Prudence, following the brief drama, smiling smugly before approaching Stubbins and drawing him away with her to a table. Leliana hesitated a moment, watching to see if he would approach her, before she also walked over to an unoccupied table. Impulsively, he selected the table next to Leliana, smiling at her as he set his bag down. Leliana smiled back at him, fidgeting with her bag and biting her lip until something over his shoulder caught her attention. Leliana’s smile faded like the sun behind a storm cloud, her brows drawing together in concern and distress. She hesitated a moment, uncertain, but a burst of ugly laughter spurred her to action.  
            “Jolene!” she called with a small wave. “Jolene, join me.” Leliana beckoned and beamed as the skinny girl with stringy auburn hair scuttled over and dumped her books on the table next to her. Her relief at being rescued was palpable. The hand she used to push the hair out of her face was shaking with emotion and she was blinking rapidly, as if to stave off tears.  
            “It is all right,” Leliana soothed, placing a comforting hand on Jolene’s arm. “There is no worse enemy than a former friend, is there?” Jolene nodded and gulped back a sob. Leliana looked around the room and spotted Professor Beery as he lumbered into the greenhouse. In a flash Leliana had approached the rather rectangular, barrel chested professor who inclined his head towards her with a scowl. Listening to Leliana, Professor Beery’s hatchet sharp, rough hewed features softened into an almost approving expression as he nodded permission and Tom marveled at her charm.  
            “She has quite a golden touch, doesn’t she?” Abraxas murmured approvingly under his breath to him as they watched Leliana walk briskly back to her table. “And she moves very well, very well indeed.”  
            Tom did not like Abraxas’ tone, or the look in his eyes as he watched Leliana.  
            He knocked an open ink pot into Abraxas’ lap.  
            Leliana had reached her table and was tugging Jolene’s arm.  
            “I need to use the ladies’ and Professor Beery said I could take you with me so I do not get lost” Leliana said, pulling Jolene from her seat.   
            “You can get any notes you miss from me after supper, if you would like,” Tom offered.  
            “Thank you very much. I will be in the library,” Leliana said huskily, leading Jolene, who was now actually crying, towards the door. “Come find me.”

 

            Leliana appeared, alone, at the evening meal just long enough to load a plate up with food and then promptly left, taking the food with her.  
            “I bet that’s for Jolene Smythe,” Astrid said thoughtfully. At the curious looks of those around her she explained further, delighting in the gossip. “Apparently Jolene had a fit in the ladies’; a complete and total meltdown. That’s why the new girl didn’t come back to class – she took Jolene to the school nurse. Must have had a devil of a time of it too, what with Jolene being hysterical and her not knowing her way around the castle.” Astrid leaned back, enjoying the impact of her words. Druella shuddered.  
            “I’d have left her there and let someone else deal with that mess,” Druella said. “But then again, I guess she’s a bit hard up for friends, being new and all.”  
            “No one’ll ever accuse you of kindness, dear,” Astrid replied, playing it off as a joke, but watching Abraxas’ reaction out of the corner of her eye.  
            “I think it was a clever move, that lecture was bloody boring,” Julius said, prodding his food. “Can anyone tell me what it is I’m eating? It tastes like glue and sawdust, but smells like burnt brisket.”  
            “You’ve eaten glue and sawdust often enough to know what it tastes like?” Sean Avery asked, making a face.  
            “I’m gifted with a vivid imagination,” Julius replied grandly.  
            “How lucky for you,” Abraxas retorted sourly.  
            “Just so,” Julius grinned toothily at Abraxas, just to annoy him.  
            Tom sighed. “Pass the pepper,” he ground out and turned his thoughts to other things, tuning out the inane prattle around him.


	6. Chapter 6

            Jolene sat propped up with pillows in her bed in the hospital wing nibbling on the end of her quill while sullenly staring at the open Herbology text in front of her. She shut the textbook with a sigh. If she hadn’t felt so lethargic from all the calming draughts Madam Jones had been forcing on her she’d probably go throw herself off the astronomy tower, but the thought of climbing all those steps made her queasy and she had never liked high places to begin with. Her gloomy musings were interrupted by the sound of the door being clumsily heaved open. She briefly considered trying to hide but decided against it; she had no hope of avoiding detection and had embarrassed herself enough for one day. The first visible thing to come through the door was a plate loaded with food, followed by the new girl. Jolene’s initial rush of relief that it wasn’t Kitty or Tanis, or her head of house, Professor Merrythought, was tempered with unease; while Leliana had been incredibly nice, Jolene didn’t understand why she, of all people, was the only person so far Leliana seemed to be interested in being friendly with.  
            “I brought dinner to share,” Leliana cheerfully announced when she reached Jolene’s bedside. “I could only carry one plate at a time and I did not think you would want to anyone else here, even if they would have agreed to help me,” she added, by way of further explanation, handing Jolene the plate so she could grab a chair.  
            “Thank you,” Jolene replied in a nearly inaudible voice, her eyes downcast. She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful – she really wasn’t – she just found Leliana’s unsolicited kindness unsettling.  
            Leliana pushed a chair next to Jolene’s bedside but did not immediately sit down. Jolene waited a moment and when Leliana remained standing she hazarded a direct look at her companion. Leliana was watching her with a veiled, serene expression, skillfully devoid of emotion.  
            “If you would rather be alone, I can go…” Leliana said softly. “You have no obligation to eat with me.”  
            Jolene blinked slowly, as she considered the possibility that Leliana genuinely wanted to be friends with her; her comment the night before about feeling alone while surrounded by people was very much something Jolene identified with. Leliana had also gotten her out before she made a spectacle of herself in Herbology, then helped her to the infirmary and made sure she got her things. No one had looked out for her like that in a long time, maybe not really ever. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_ , Jolene thought grimly as she made her decision.   
            “N-no,” she said hesitantly, “please stay.”  
            Leliana beamed and gracefully settled into the chair, pulling forks out of the pocket of her robes. “I was hoping you would say that.” She handed Jolene a fork. “I was dreading eating at that long table with everyone watching my every move. Is it always like that?”  
            Jolene shrugged noncommittally. “You’re new, pretty, and used to go to school in the middle of a war zone. People are probably going to be fascinated with you for a while.” She took a bite of beans and masticated thoughtfully.  
            “Lucky me,” Leliana sighed gloomily, reaching over to scoop up a bite of mashed potatoes. “You are getting discharged soon, correct? I do not want to be alone with _them_ tonight.”  
            There was no need for her to clarify who she meant by ‘them’, although, upon further reflection, Jolene supposed she could have meant the rest of their house, or the whole school, but she was fairly certain Leliana meant Tanis and Kitty.  
            “I don’t like being alone with _them_ either.” Jolene smiled grimly at Leliana.  
            “I suppose we could both stay here tonight?” Leliana asked hopefully. “I just have to check in on Matayas and pick up a potion.” She took another bite of mashed potatoes before adding, “Oh, and I have to spend some time in the library.”  
            “Why the library?” Jolene asked curiously. “You can do homework here.”  
            “I told him to find me in the library.” Leliana blushed. “The boy who offered to lend his Herbology notes.”  
            “If it was Jack Stubbins don’t bother; he’s as thick as a post.”  
            “Handsome stuffing for a uniform?” Leliana asked, spearing a beet.  
            Jolene solemnly nodded and Leliana wrinkled her nose impishly.  
            “It is not Jack… it is someone else…” Leliana blushed nearly as red as the beet she was eating.  
            “Who?” Jolene asked breathlessly. Leliana hadn’t been at Hogwarts long enough to have met that many people, and she had hardly spoken to anyone but her and… “Not Tom Riddle!” she gasped.  
            Leliana blushed even harder and dropped her eyes.  
            “Merlin’s beard! It _is_ Tom Riddle!” Jolene nearly squealed in excitement. “Half the girls in this school would give their eyeteeth to borrow his notes! He’s been top in all his classes every year and handsome as the devil to boot!”  
            “He has been kind to me,” Leliana explained shyly. Seeing Jolene’s expectant look she elaborated. “He sat with me on the train and told me about the school and what sorts of things you all studied last year so I would not be caught unprepared…” She blushed again. “He carried my case and was so thoughtful and attentive... I think I might like him very much.”  
            Jolene smiled brightly and joined in Leliana’s conspiratory giggle, but her mind was working quickly, ferreting out everything she could remember in connection to Tom Riddle. Most of it was good, but there was an… unsettling… pattern of misfortune that befell the few people who seemed to cross him, nothing that could ever be directly traced back to Riddle, merely hints and whispers. Jolene looked at Leliana’s shining eyes and dreamy smile and swallowed uncertainly. She didn’t want to risk alienating the only person who seemed likely to be friends with her. _It’s probably nothing_ , she decided.  
            “What are you doing still sitting around here?” she asked with a smile, squeezing Leliana’s cold hands. “You should be in the library! Make sure you come get me before you go back to the dorm, I’d rather not be alone with _them_ tonight.” _Or ever_ , she mentally added.  
            Leliana squeezed her hands back. “I will share any notes he lends me, and of course I will not leave you alone with _them_ , do not be silly!” She hopped up with a dazzling smile and fairly skipped out of the room, pausing at the door to beam back at Jolene.  
            Jolene flashed an encouraging smile and made a shooing motion. She waited until Leliana had gone before she frowned in consternation and gnawed her lower lip. _It’s probably nothing_ , she told herself again as she summoned a bowl and carefully threw up the food she had eaten. By the time Madam Jones looked in on her she had vanished the vomit, hidden the bowl under her bed and was calmly outlining her Herbology text.


	7. Chapter 7

            Tom found Leliana tucked into a secluded corner of the library, alone, surrounded by books and parchment. Had he not known the library so well, Tom wasn’t sure he even would have found her. The library’s usual hush was heightened to an overwhelming cocooning silence by the heavy blackout drapes fastened tightly at every window so that all but the loudest noises were swallowed in the silence. He watched her for a moment as she wrote notes from the textbook in front of her, her fountain pen moving fluidly over the parchment, before clearing his throat with a soft cough to announce his presence. Leliana’s face was gray with exhaustion, but her smile was undiminished as she looked up at him. Her tiredness only softened its brilliance, giving it an ethereal, almost haunting, quality.  
            “Tom” she said softly, motioning to the seat across from her. “I am so glad to see you. Was worried you would not come, or had forgotten about me.”  
            “I had not forgotten you” Tom said, setting his things on the table and taking the seat she indicated. “I have my Herbology notes, here, if you wanted to copy them?”  
            “Yes, please” Leliana took the pages he offered and looked them over. “This will not take me long to copy, if you are willing to wait a little bit, I can return them to you tonight.” Tom shrugged easily and toyed with a quill.  
            “I have reading and assignments I can do while I wait.” He stretched and looked around to make sure no one was hovering nearby. They appeared to be alone in this corner of the cavernous library. “I like when the library is like this, quiet. It is soothing, would you not agree?” He watched closely for her reaction.  
            “Yes,” she murmured, not looking up from the notes she was copying, “it is. Quite soothing.” When it became apparent that no further response was forthcoming, he dragged his transfiguration text out of his bag and laid it on the table in front of him before opening it to the assigned reading. He’d already done the reading for the next lesson. Actually, he’d probably already done the assigned reading for the next few lessons, for all his classes, over the summer. He started reading his textbooks as soon as the years’ booklist was delivered; there wasn’t much else to do at the orphanage. Disinterested in actually studying, he contemplated finding a book of more advanced spells to challenge himself a bit when he noticed a slim, unmarked book on the table in front of Leliana. Stealthily, he reached for the book and when his hand was close enough snatched it up quickly. His sudden movement attracted Leliana’s attention. At the sight of her book in his hands she blanched guiltily and made a belated, failed, grab for it, which Tom easily evaded.  
            “What is this?” he asked, scooting his chair back out of range of Leliana’s frantically grasping hands. He opened the cover to the book’s title page. “ _The Torture Garden, by Octave Mirbeau_ ” he ready aloud, arching a quizzical brow at her.  
            “It is just a book,” Leliana said hurriedly. “My friend Hawley gave it me; she thought I would like it.”  
            Tom found her place marked with a blue silk ribbon and began to skim the page. His eyebrows rose as he read and he found himself blushing at the lurid text. Tom shut the book quickly, caught sight of Leliana’s expectant look and adverted his eyes in embarrassment.  
            “You and your _friend_ have interesting tastes,” he commented dryly. “Does _He_ often give you such… _provocative_ books to read?”  
            Leliana rose from her seat and slowly came around the table to retrieve her book from his unresisting hands. Her graceful movements seemed more gliding than walking. _What sort of girl is she?_ Tom wondered, uncomfortably hot and aware of the space between them.  
            “Hawley is incredibly well read and _She_ is a very dear friend of mine. And _She_ has excellent taste in books; Mirbeau writes the most beautiful truths – here, listen to this passage:  
“Monsters, monsters! But there are no monsters! What you call monsters are superior forms, or forms beyond your understanding. Aren’t the gods monsters? Isn’t a man of genius a monster, like a tiger or a spider, like all individuals who live beyond social lies, in the dazzling and divine immortality of things? Why, I too then – am a monster!”  
            Tom listened as if in a trance; Leliana’s soft, syrupy voice enveloping and soothing him like hot honey when one has a sore throat. She looked at him searchingly and smiled softly at his dazed expression. Carefully, she closed the book and gently brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead, her touch feather light. Tom inadvertently gasped and staggered slightly sideways before bracing a hand on the table, her fleeting touch causing his skin to prickle with an unfamiliar awareness. When Leliana turned to resume her seat and finish copying notes Tom noticed a folded letter lying on the table midway between their seats. It must have become dislodged from her things when she had lunged across the table after her book. After a split-second of consideration, Tom swept the letter into his transfiguration book while her back was turned and hastily shoveled the rest of his things into his bag.  
            “On second thought, I will get my notes back from you tomorrow in defense against the dark arts” he said hurriedly, gathering up his things and striding away before she could notice his theft.  
            “Good night” she tentatively called after him, her fingers lifted in an uncertain half wave.  
            Tom smiled at her reassuringly over his shoulder, the stolen letter burning like hot metal through the transfiguration book in his hands. He couldn’t wait to get somewhere alone to read it.


	8. Chapter 8

Letter purloined from Leliana in the library

> _Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad  
>  Alamut Fortress, Iran_
> 
> _Dear Sir:  
>  We have not met, but I was well acquainted with your brother’s family. I do not know if you have already been officially informed, but your brother, his wife and their two youngest children were recently killed. Their eldest daughter, Hadassah, was not home at the time and therefore survived.  She is safe.  
>  As she had no surviving family to look after her in Mende, along with the imminent invasion of hostile forces, my family thought Hada would be safer further away from the approaching front line. I brought her with me when I was sent back to Brittan and she is currently staying with my Grandparents and younger sister in Wales. Hada will always have a place in our family, she is very dear to us, but you are her closest surviving relative and she wishes to find you.  
>  Hada said to include the phrase _ليس صحيحا كل ما هو مسموح به _so that you would know it is really her and the contents of this letter are true. (I hope I wrote it out correctly) Please contact me. I promised Hada I would find you for her._  
>  Sincerely  
>  Leliana Vallen

Tom refolded the letter carefully. He had mistakenly thought it was a letter written to Leliana when he took it, the fact that it was written by her, and presumably ready to be posted, made things more problematic; she was bound to notice it was missing sooner rather than later. Tom tapped the pointed edge of the folded letter against his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated his next move. Taking the letter in the first place had been impulsive and rash. Normally he bluffed his way out of tight corners through force of will, charisma and charm, but this time was different; he wanted Leliana to like him. He suspected she was inclined to already, but being caught out as the thief of one of her letters could very well spoil everything. He could return it to her first thing in the morning and claim he had accidentally picked it up when he gathered his things, but that explanation hardly seemed credible and was a direct admission of at least carelessness on his part, which was undesirable. On the other hand, he could try to slip the letter into her bag and hope she assumed that she overlooked it before, but that plan was too risky – he could get caught putting the letter back outright or she would know she hadn’t overlooked it before and suspect him of theft and deception, which was also undesirable. Tom slipped the letter into the pocket of his robes and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees to stare into the fire merrily burning in the common room fireplace. The flames soothed him, helped him mentally approach a problem from all angles. He found the solution to any quandary when staring into fire, except for this one. It was beyond frustrating. Tom noticed a ripple of movement at the common room’s entrance out of the corner of his eye and turned to see what was going on. Argos Malfoy and Decimus Flint, along with the rest of the quiddich team had just sauntered in. Virtually all of Slytherin was in awe of Decimus and Argos, the exceptions being their younger siblings – Astrid and Abraxus – and Tom Riddle. He had little use for Argos, who was a braggart and a snob, and Decimus had little use for him, as he was popular with teachers and students alike, as well as a house hero. Tom watched Decimus thoughtfully with renewed interest. He knew Decimus and Argos were good friends, had been since before they started at Hogwarts, and their shared athleticism made them natural teammates. It was a testament to depth of their friendship that they remained friends instead of becoming rivals – both wanted the same achievements, pursued the same honors and attracted the same girls – and yet they remained solid friends. Argos had been made prefect, Decimus quiddich captain and both were prominent members of the slug club. To all the world they appeared to be the closest of friends, and yet… Astrid wouldn’t plan on Argos being out of the picture due to an unfortunate “accident” without her brother’s collusion, so the logical assumption followed that Decimus was perfectly willing to sacrifice his good friend’s life for family ambition. Tom found this very interesting. He leaned back in his armchair to reflect on this new information and unobtrusively observe his housemates.

 

            Across the room, Abraxas also noticed his brother’s grand entrance and had slouched lower in his seat, trying his best to remain beneath Argos’ attention. Julius and Sean were incrementally inching towards the dormitories, preparing their escape for when Argos inevitably noticed his younger brother and came over to bully him. In stark contrast, Druella was preening and twittering, hoping to catch Argos’ eye, selfishly oblivious to the obvious desire of everyone around her to remain unnoticed. Tom felt something almost like pity for Abraxas, trapped in a corner with a simpering ninny doing her best to draw the attention of the very person he most wanted to avoid, but the feeling was quickly squelched when he heard Druella’s grating trill and remembered how many times he’d had to suffer her presence because of his friend’s infatuation. Tom’s annoyance with Druella suddenly evaporated as a wonderful, terrible idea began to coalesce and take form in his mind. It was reprehensible and extremely cruel, but would ensure Druella was permanently out of the picture, tainted so thoroughly and terribly that none of Abraxus’ friends would ever have anything to do with her again. It was perfect. The only weak point in his developing plan was that he would need Astrid’s help, or to be more accurate, her brother Decimus’ help. Tom checked that Leliana’s letter was safely in his pocket before slipping out of his seat and heading to his dormitory. He already knew how things would unfold in the common room, having seen the farce dozens of times already, and had no desire to watch it again that evening.


	9. Chapter 9

            Tom awoke the next morning without a suitable solution to his letter dilemma. He dressed slowly, contemplating feigning a stomachache to postpone having to deal with the letter a little longer. Absentmindedly he reached into his pocket for Leliana’s letter and felt a jolt of panic when he found his pocket empty. Tom froze for a moment, his mind racing, before checking his other pocket and feeling a rush of relief when his fingers brushed against a folded piece of parchment. Tom unfolded the letter to read it again and felt his stomach drop as he read the single line of text, written with an obvious flourish.  
            _Please don’t take my things – LV  
_             Tom’s blood roared in his ears as dropped the parchment and half stepped away from it as though it had suddenly transfigured into some sort of venomous creature. Abraxas, Julius and Sean gawked as he struggled to control his breathing and regain his shattered composure. Hesitantly Abraxas reached for the letter but Tom snatched it up and stuffed it in his pocket.  
            “Has anyone else been in this room?” Tom demanded angrily, his hands shaking slightly as he finished getting dressed. Mutely, his roommates all shook their heads. Tom’s reaction to the mysterious parchment had unsettled them.  
            “Well, how’s about breakfast then? I’m starving!” Sean exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. Following his lead the others relaxed.  
            “Hold the presses! Important breaking news! The man with the hollow leg is hungry again,” Julius laughed, casually throwing an arm around Sean’s shoulders as they walked out of the room. “Are you lot coming?” he called over his shoulder from the doorway.  
            “Save us seats, we’ll be right there,” Abraxus replied. “And make sure Sean doesn’t eat all the bacon while you’re at it,” he shouted after them good-naturedly.  
            “You’d best hurry then, I’m a wizard, not a miracle worker,” Julius shouted back as he walked further away.  
            “Is everything alright?” Abraxus asked Tom softly. He kept his face carefully neutral, but watched for Tom’s reaction closely.  
            “Everything is fine,” Tom replied irritably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a prank.” He exhaled a huff of forced laughter. “Must be the new girl, I do not think anyone else would dare play such a silly prank on me.”  
            Abraxas relaxed and smiled, relieved Tom’s temper has passed so quickly. Tom smiled insincerely back as he followed Abraxas to the great hall for breakfast, his mind whirling as he considered his every moment since he last read Leliana’s letter the previous evening. The switch had to have been made while they were all sleeping, which, while highly improbably, was the only possible time it could have been done. However, growing up in an orphanage had taught Tom to be a light sleeper and he always awoke whenever anyone entered or left the room so he knew for a fact that no one, other than his roommates, had entered their dormitory last night. Abraxas, Julius and Sean were all unquestionably loyal to him, besides the fact that not a one could possibly lie to or conceal anything from him. There was always the improbable explanation that Leliana had used a spell or charm he had never heard of to make the switch, but he was the best in their year, the brightest wizard of their age and extraordinarily gifted and well read to boot; she couldn’t know more magic than him. Impossible. She couldn’t have used magic, it was impossible that she had made the switch herself and absolutely no one had entered his room last night… _except for the house elves!_ Tom nearly tripped over his own feet in shock. House elves went all sorts of places wizards could not and no one ever paid any attention to what they were doing. _How clever,_ he thought, impressed in spite of himself. _But how did she get the house elves to do it for her?_ Students rarely, if ever, saw Hogwarts’ house elves, and actually talking to even one of them seemed impossible. _And yet_ … the only possible explanation he could think of was that she had somehow used the house elves. As he entered the great hall and saw the Ravenclaw table he suddenly remembered that he had to face Leliana. He was sorely tempted to try to avoid her, but she still had his Herbology notes and avoidance was a basic admission of guilt he had no intention of making. Leliana was seated midway down the Ravenclaw table chatting with Jolene Smythe. Tom cast a furtive glance at Leliana, which she intercepted with an impish smile. _She knows_. He returned her smile as though he hadn’t a care in the world as he took a seat between Sean and Abraxas but his mind was racing, weighing the pros and cons of different courses of action and discarding option after option. By the end of breakfast he had whittled his options down to one: face Leliana directly, claim taking the letter was an accident and then express admiration for her cleverness in stealing it back. It wasn’t ideal, but she knew too much for him to risk any other route, now he just had to focus on mitigating any damage being caught out may have caused. He hated being backed into corners, but there was no reason he couldn’t turn a less than ideal situation to his best possible advantage. One could never expect everything to go exactly according to plan if other people were involved, other people are unreliable and will inevitably let one down or botch things up, the smartest thing to do was plan for a large margin of human error and have multiple routes to the end goal. This strategy had worked many times over the years and he had every expectation it would work with Leliana. He just had to remember to be patient, bide his time and use this temporary setback to reevaluate the situation and turn it to his best possible advantage. Tom glanced up from his rubbery eggs to check on Leliana; Stubbins was trying to flirt with her again. He made a mental note that somehow Stubbins needed to spend some quality time in the hospital wing, or perhaps St. Mungos. He mulled over various possibilities before deciding it seemed like a problem for his followers to solve. His gratitude was valuable and he had other, more pressing, things occupying his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

            Tom made a beeline for the far back corner seat when he entered the classroom. It was a perfect vantage point, the ideal spot to observe without being observed. From the back corner he could watch everyone and everything in the room; he saw who was passing notes, who was keeping secrets, who copied work and those who let them. Leliana sat at a table off to the side of the classroom with Jolene. They were whispering and smiling, Jolene snuck a glance at him and turned back to Leliana quickly with a giggle when he met her gaze. _Gossiping about me_ , he thought with a touch of annoyance. Astrid slipped over and perched on the edge of the table he was sharing with Abraxas.  
            “She likes you” she whispered confidently.  
            “How do you know?” Tom hissed back. He firmly suspected Astrid’s new found interest in his pursuit of Leliana had quite a bit to do with the fact that Abraxas was sitting right next to him.  
            “Jolene keeps glancing at you and she doesn’t,” Astrid said calmly, watching for his reaction. Apparently she found his response to her insight lacking because she sighed in frustration before continuing. “Girls always have their friends watch the guy they like because they don’t want to be seen watching him themselves. There’s an art to it.” Astrid swept her hair over one shoulder with a casually graceful flick of her wrist. Tom was certain the gesture was calculated and had been carefully practiced, possibly for hours, in front of a mirror. It was nicely done nonetheless, and wildly successful at catching Abraxas’ attention.  
            “That’s mental,” Abraxas said with a snort of derision. Astrid’s eyes narrowed and she turned sharply to Tom.  
            “Didn’t you lend the new girl your Herbology notes?” she asked him quickly.  
            “Yes, and? It is just Herbology notes, Astrid,” he replied, toying with his quill. She was remarkably well informed; he didn’t recall mentioning that he lent his notes to Leliana to, or around, Astrid.  
            “Who returned them?” Astrid was like a terrier on the hunt.  
            “She still has them. I have not bothered to get them back yet.” Tom’s gaze slid to Leliana. Jolene looked away quickly. “What do my notes have to do with anything? It is not some big thing,” he asked impatiently.  
            “If Jolene was the one interested in you, she’d have returned your notes by now and used that as an excuse to try to strike up a conversation, flirt a bit,” Astrid said triumphantly, hopping off their table and daintily adjusted her robes with a small, secretive smile. “The new girl likes you, Tom Riddle. Chat her up when you get your notes back, you’ll see.”  
            Professor Merrythought entered the room and Astrid dashed to her seat before Tom had time to formulate an appropriately acerbic response.  
            “If she’s right it’s good news for you,” Abraxas commented. “Less so for all the other blokes sniffing around.”  
            Tom hauled his defense against the dark arts book out of his bag and thumped it down on the table, ignoring Abraxas’ comment.

 

           Professor Merrythought’s uncanny ginger eyes swept over the classroom in a cold, appraising look. A retired auror, Merrythought had exacting standards and was not easily impressed. Tom wasn’t sure if he found her likeable, but he could respect her as a good teacher and a still formidable witch.  
            “In light of current world events, the Ministry has specifically requested that all students learn the basics of dueling, and other, more advanced, forms of defensive magic,” Professor Merrythought said, her voice dripping with annoyance and distain. “Nevertheless, I will continue to follow the curriculum as approved by the headmaster, which, coincidentally, includes the basics of dueling and other, more advanced, forms of defensive magic, seeing as how I am professor of defense against the dark arts and all. I don’t take orders from the Ministry of Magic.” Merrythought surveyed the classroom while the students processed her statements. Tom had suspected for some time that Merrythought disliked the Ministry, it was only logical given her surprisingly early retirement from the Auror’s office.  
            “Right, then,” Merrythought said briskly. She tapped her wand against the blackboard next to her and the classroom rules appeared line by line, as she did at the start of every year, although she had not verbally gone over the rules with them after first year. Merrythought was probably required to review the classroom rules at the start of every year, for safety purposes, but, characteristically, she didn’t feel the need to waste her time lecturing students on things she expected them all to know by this point; the rules went up to fulfill an obligation, nothing more.  
            “We will start this year with the Shield Charm. Can anyone tell me what that is?” Merrythought looked around the room expectantly, her eyes finally settling on Tom. Obligingly, he raised his hand. “Yes, Mr. Riddle?”  
            “A Shield Charm is a basic defensive spell that can cause minor to moderate jinxes, curses, and hexes to rebound upon the attacker or to reflect or lessen the effects of more powerful spells,” Tom recited obediently.  
            “Very good Mr. Riddle,” Merrythought said with a curt nod, “ten points to Slytherin.”    She tapped the blackboard with the tip of her wand again and the classroom rules were replaced with information on Shield Charms and their various uses for them to copy. After the initial flurry of students preparing their note taking materials the room fell silent except for the scratching of quills across parchment. As usual, Tom finished copying the notes fairly quickly, leaving him free to observe his classmates. Leliana had also finished quickly and was toying with her wand, idly going through the motions of the charm with a casual ease born out of habit. _The new girl likes you, Tom Riddle._ Astrid’s words circled in his head like ravens around a slaughterhouse. He wanted her words to be true but he had no reason to trust Astrid, and it was unwise to put too much faith in other people’s assessments. Tom glanced over at Abraxas and noticed he was sketching a girl’s portrait in the bottom corner of his parchment. Unobtrusively Tom angled himself for a better look and noticed Abraxas’ doodle bore a striking resemblance to Astrid, rather than Druella. _Interesting_. Tom noted the sketch for possible future use. It would be amusing to watch the reactions of both girls if Abraxas’ sketch fell into one or the other’s hands, accidentally, of course.  
            “Miss Vallen!” Professor Merrythought barked sharply, causing half the class to jump in surprise. “What, exactly, do you think you are doing?”  
            “I-I was just showing Jolene the wand motions for the Shield Charm, Madame,” Leliana replied in a small voice, her face tight with anxiety. Jolene blushed blotchily, ashen white splotched with deep beet red, and fumbled for her wand, which she had dropped in her surprise.  
            “We’re not in France, Miss Vallen. You will address me as ‘Professor’”. Merythought’s face was hard and inscrutable, her eyes like shards of broken amber glass.  
            “Yes, Professor,” Leliana’s voice was steadier now, but she kept her eyes lowered.  
            “You are familiar with the use of Shield Charms then, Miss Vallen?”  
            “Yes Professor,” Leliana raised her eyes to Professor Merrythought and met the older woman’s hard eyes unflinchingly. The corner of Merrythought’s mouth quirked with something suspiciously similar to a hastily suppressed smile.  
            “Then it looks like I have my volunteer for a practical demonstration. Please join me at the front of the room,” Merrythought said motioning to a spot across from her with a sweep of her arm. “Let’s see how education at Beauxbatons compares to Hogwarts.”  
            Leliana walked slowly to the front of the room and stood at place indicated by Professor Merrythought. She held her wand parallel to the ground in a relaxed, easy grip.  
            “Expelliarmus!’  
            “Protego!” Leliana’s wand wobbled in her hand like a living thing trying to escape, but she was able to hold on to it.  
            “Disappointing, Miss Vallen. I had expected better. If this is representative of the state of magical education on the continent, it’s no wonder Grindelwald has taken so much territory,” Merrythought said coldly turning to the class at large. “Sloppy spell work is how battles are lost and people die.”  
            Tom was surprised by Merrythought’s harshness; while not always the most approachable of teachers, she usually had much more patience with her students than this, understanding that they were there to be taught and that learning took time. Something seemed, off, with Merrythought and Leliana’s interaction, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. The feeling irked him.  
            Leliana’s face went hard and blank as she raised her chin. The obstinate jut of her jaw was unmistakable.  
            “My apologies, Professor; I miscalculated the strength of your spell. May I please try again?” Leliana asked in a curiously calm, flat voice.  
            “At least they taught you fine manners” Merrythought said dryly. “In the real world there are no second chances Miss Vallen”, Merrythought paused as she met Leliana’s level gaze, her golden eyes calculating and shrewd, undimmed by injury and age. Tom found himself holding his breath, waiting. Apparently reaching a decision, Professor Merrythought continued, “but as this is a classroom, you may try again.”  
            “Thank you, Professor,” Leliana replied tonelessly.  
            She brought her wand up in front of her face and executed a shallow bow. With a small bemused smile Professor Merrythought returned the gesture and both assumed dueling stances. Merrythought stood rigidly, in a perfect example of the position she taught all Hogwarts students, whereas Leliana leaned slightly forward with her weight on the balls of her feet, in a vaguely ballet-like pose. Tom examined Leliana’s form, comparing it to Merrythought’s with a critical eye. Logically, he would have thought that leaning towards ones opponent was a tactical disadvantage for defensive maneuvers, the closer one was to a hostile wizard the less time to react to their spells, but that disadvantage on response time cut both ways. He decided to wait until he saw how her tactics worked against the professor’s charm before forming an opinion on the matter.  
            Merrythought moved quickly, casting her spell nonverbally. Leliana’s reaction was instantaneous, and also nonverbal. She deflected Merrythought’s hex with a slash of her wand while at the same time flinging her free hand out in a pushing gesture. The classroom windows across from her shattered.  
            Tom was shocked. Leliana had seemed so soft, mild, and while he hadn’t doubted that she was both well-read and clever, he never would have expected that she could wield such powerful magic. Professor Merrythought’s face was inscrutable, as always, but for a scant second Tom thought he detected the faintest hint of something like satisfaction in her expression, which was so unexpected he almost doubted that he saw it at all.  
            “When this war is over, I will write your professors at Beauxbatons to compliment their teaching,” Professor Merrythought said softly, there was something, almost familiarity, in her tone Tom had never heard before and the nagging feeling that there was yet another layer to their interaction that he was somehow missing intensified. Leliana bowed slightly in acknowledgment of the implicit compliment.  
            “It is my hope that they are alive to receive your letters,” she replied softly.  
            Silence followed Leliana’s response as the weight of what was hidden behind those simple words sank in.  
            “Is it so bad as that?” Merrythought asked in a strangled whisper. There were lots of rumors, but very little actual information publically released about the current situation in Europe.  
            In a brittle voice, her face an expressionless mask, Leliana replied: “Grindelwald hides his legions in the Nazi lines, his agents infiltrate our ranks and he raises our dead against us. Yes. It is so bad as that.”  
            The following silence was so oppressive Tom thought he could hear Abraxas’ heartbeat through the space between them. Professor Merrythought stared at Leliana as though seeing her for the first time for several long moments before clearing her throat uncomfortably.  
            “Thank you, Miss Vallen. You may return to your seat.”  
            “Thank you, Professor.” Leliana turned on her heel and walked back to the table she shared with Jolene, every pair of eyes in the room following her progress. Professor Merrythought repaired the broken windows with an absentminded swish of her wand before turning her full attention to the students before her.  
            “As you have just seen, the Shield Charm can be used for both personal protection and to create an actual, physical, barrier capable of inflicting physical damage on objects it comes into contact with.” Merrythought lectured briskly. “The incantation is pronounced _pro-TAY-goh_ which should be paired with a parry-like wand movement, just so.” Merrythought demonstrated the motion with her wand. “The remaining time in this period will be spent practicing the Shield Charm with your partners, who will _only_ be trying to disarm you. Use of anything other than the Disarmament Charm will result in points being taken from your house and possibly detention, depending on the spell being used. Proceed.”  
            A sudden flurry of movement and noise punctuated Professor Merrythought’s directions as students started putting away their books and other supplies, followed by an even greater increase in volume as tables and chairs were moved to the sides of the room. His belongings safely packed into his bag, Tom hazarded a glance over at Leliana. He immediately noticed that she seemed dazed and unsteady on her feet. Jolene gently shook Leliana’s arm and then helped her put her things away. Tom quickly turned his attention to Abraxas, who was trying to covertly watch Astrid and Druella while Tom’s attention was elsewhere.  
            “Parkinson is no slouch, but Flint is quite a dish,” he commented to Abraxas, who started and then blushed painfully. “Do you want to block first?” Tom asked casually, he was in no hurry to try his hand at the Shield Charm. He had already studied all the spells, counter-spells and enchantments in the textbook, most of which he was quite familiar with using. However, he hadn’t had any use for a Shield Charm before, no one was foolish enough to try to hex him, and he generally disliked trying a spell for the first time in public, especially after seeing someone else do it so well. He wanted to see how Abraxas fared. If Abraxas could do it, the charm would be easy for him, and if Abraxas failed… Tom always enjoyed school sanctioned hexing.  
            “Sure, why not,” Abraxas replied, running a distracted hand through his pale-blond hair and glancing again at Astrid and Druella. Tom stifled an impatient sigh.  
            “Expelliarmus!” The spell easily sent Abraxas’ wand flying out of his hand. “You did not even try to block,” he said irritably.  
            “I wasn’t ready!” Abraxas protested. “That one doesn’t count, it was a warm up.”  
            “Well, let us get on with it then” Tom retorted. Abraxas hadn’t seen where his wand landed and Tom wasn’t about to point him in the right direction, he intended to use however long it took Abraxas to find his wand to watch Leliana.  
            Although Leliana and Jolene were nearly on the other side of the room, being in the far back corner allowed Tom to easily find angles from which he could see nearly anyone in the room with only a few steps in any direction. From his superior vantage point, Tom noticed Leliana looked like she’d been hit with a particularly well cast Jelly-Legs-Jinx. She was starting to wobble like a spinning top about to fall as she tried to disarm Jolene. Tom wove between dueling students and was at her side in two breaths. Leliana accepted his proffered arm and leaned against him gratefully.  
            “Just a little dizzy is all, I am ok,” she whispered, looking up at him.  
            Her eyes were even prettier than he remembered, or perhaps he hadn’t really seen them this close, he wasn’t sure which. They were a kaleidoscope of blues – sapphire, royal, midnight, tiny flecks of cyan – more blues than he knew the names for and a few he didn’t recognize. She had shadows beneath her eyes, like faint bruises, and he wondered what kept her from sleep, what secrets she harbored. His sudden movement had attracted the attention of Professor Merrythought from the other corner of the room where she was observing Adelade Hitchens as she tried to block Leticia Lymstock’s Disarmament Charm. With a few parting words of advice and encouragement, Professor Merrythought made her way quickly to Tom and Jolene who had Leliana propped up between them.  
            “She said she is dizzy, Professor,” Tom said uncertainly as Leliana swayed against him.  
            Professor Merrythought’s lips compressed into a hyphen and she rummaged through her robes until she found what she was looking for and thrust a chocolate frog into Leliana’s limp fingers.  
            “Eat this, Miss Vallen. It’ll help.”  
            Leliana fumbled with the wrapping until, with a sigh of exasperation, Merrythought gestured for Jolene to unwrap it for her. Jolene hastily unwrapped the frog, caught it with surprising deftness as it tried to escape and placed it into Leliana’s hand, which she then guided to her lips. Leliana bit into the frog and some of the color seemed to come back into her face.  
            “Thank you, Professor,” she murmured, before smiling gratefully at Jolene.  
            “Take actual bites, Miss Vallen, Mr. Riddle can’t spend the whole period propping you up while you nibble at it like your rabbit,” Merrythought snapped. She glanced at Tom and Jolene quickly before turning her attention back to Leliana with an appraising look. “You have to work on your control, a glass hammer is no use to anyone. Finish that chocolate.”  
            “Yes, Professor.” Leliana kept her eyes down and finished the chocolate frog. “I feel much better now, thank you.”  
            “Be careful you don’t channel more than you can wield” Merrythought said sternly to Leliana before shifting her attention to Tom. “Shouldn’t you be practicing with your partner?”  
            “Yes, Professor,” Tom replied automatically. He did not particularly want to go back to practicing with Abraxas, there was only so many times he could disarm him before it got boring, or Abraxas insisted on switching roles, and Tom had no intention of allowing himself to be hexed.  
            “Well then, get on with it” Merrythought motioned towards Abraxas. “Mr. Malfoy needs all the practice he can get. We’ve had enough heroics for one day, I’ll see to Miss Vallen and Miss Smythe.”  
            Tom reluctantly released Leliana, nodded to Jolene and walked over to Abraxas. He locked gazes with Astrid over Abraxas’ shoulder and she smiled and winked. He could almost hear her saying _I told you so_.


	11. Chapter 11

            Gossip spread virally at Hogwarts, via personal proximity. Tom watched it move across the house tables in waves at the evening meal. Gossip about Leliana, made even more conspicuous by her absence, speculation and rumors. Jolene sat alone at the Ravenclaw table, with her shoulders pulled up nearly to her ears as she tried to hide behind her stringy hair and eat her dinner at the same time. Tom noticed Professor Merrythought was also absent and was sure it was not just a coincidence. He glanced back at Jolene, nibbling at her dinner like a frightened rabbit ready to bolt. Tom ate quickly, keeping an eye on Jolene; he wanted to catch her alone outside the great hall and extract information about Leliana. He knew she would bolt, it was just a matter of time. She was being besieged with artificial kindness from her housemates, the same people who were teasing her to tears only yesterday, in the hopes that she’d share choice gossip on the mysterious new girl in return. Tom watched their efforts with vague amusement; it was obvious they were wasting their time. Even if Jolene hadn’t latched on to Leliana like a barnacle, after years of teasing and abuse it would take more than a few minutes of transparent kindness the wheedle out anything interesting, her mistrust and resentment were too deeply ingrained. Tom had never really interacted with Jolene, so he had a blank slate and his earlier assistance to Leliana should be a mark in his favor. He scarcely heard his housemates chattering and gossiping around him or the softer hiss of gossip about him further up and down the table. He was so tired of distorted half truths and second or third hand information. If Leliana confided in anyone at Hogwarts it would be Jolene, and Tom intended to find out what she knew.  
            Shortly thereafter, just as expected, Jolene dashed for the door. Tom wasted no time following her, lengthening his stride to close the distance between them. He caught her not far from the doors to the great hall, his long fingers closing around her skinny upper arm like a bruising manacle. She spun to face him so quickly it broke his grip.  
            “I don’t know!” she shrieked, her hands protectively held before of her face like birds thrashing against a cage.  
            “I have not asked you anything!” Tom snapped, stifling the impulse to grab Jolene by her bony shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled. He had no patience for hysterics.  
            “Oh,” she said softly, lowering her hands to peer at him cautiously. “It’s you. What d’you want?”  
            “Is Leliana alright?” he asked, reaching out and brushing the fringes of her mind with his own. Jolene’s thoughts were a jumble of anxiety, fear and suspicion. It was an uncomfortable combination that effectively shielded what she was actually thinking. Undoubtedly he could filter out the white noise, in time, but he had no desire to expose himself to her toxic brew of emotion until he did.   
            “Y-Yes. At least I-I think so,” Jolene said hesitantly. “She’s having dinner with our head of house. Professor Merrythought’s old friends with Leliana’s grandparents.”  
            Tom processed the information silently; it raised more questions than it answered. Jolene fidgeted and glanced nervously around the hallway. He snapped his attention back to the girl standing in front of him.  
            “But she was alright the rest of the day, right?” Tom persisted. Seeing Jolene’s hesitation he changed tactics. “It is just” he paused for effect, “she seemed almost… unwell … in defense Against the Dark Arts today and I wanted to make sure she was okay.”  
            Jolene was still suspicious, but her posture softened.  
            “I’d like to return to my house common room now, if you don’t mind? I’ll let her know you wanted to know if she was okay?” Jolene was inching away from him, preparing to flee.  
            “Please do,” Tom said with one of his particularly charming smiles. He caught Jolene’s shoulder as she started to turn away. “Will you also tell her that I would like to see her? We can meet anywhere she likes.” The words bubbled up and were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He wanted to kick himself for sounding so pathetic and desperate, but his words thawed Jolene considerably.  
            “I think she will be happy to hear that,” Jolene said with an awkward smile. “Goodnight” she said softly before scuttling away.   
            He found the dynamics of female friendships mystifying.

>>><<< 

             Astrid watched Tom follow Jolene out of the great hall. _He’s in for a nasty surprise if he thinks he’s going to get anything useful out of that one_ she thought. It was a clever enough idea, grilling the only person the new girl seemed to talk to, if one wasn’t at all familiar with Jolene Smythe. Astrid _was_ familiar enough with her to know it was a wasted effort, not that that would stop her from checking if Tom managed to get any useful information out of it. The back of Astrid’s neck prickled and she turned to find her brother staring her down with a pointed, we-need-to-talk look. She gave a barely perceptible nod before dropping her eyes to stare at her mostly empty plate. For the most part she was perfectly happy to be ignored by Decimus while they were at school. Decimus usually did ignore her, but every so often he felt the need to be overbearing about some random thing or another. Decimus had risen and was looming over her, waiting for her to get up and leave the great hall with him. She was almost tempted to obstinately stay seated, but she was done with her dinner and didn’t want to push her luck. They were almost to the common room before Decimus pulled her down a side hallway and into an empty classroom.  
            “What’s going on with you and Riddle?” he demanded, shaking her slightly.  
            Astrid irritably shrugged out of her brother’s grasp and leveled a sullen look at him.  
            “Nothing, absolutely nothing,” she snapped and raised her chin defiantly.  
            “Don’t lie to me, Astrid!” Decimus seized her jaw in an iron grip. “I’ve seen you watching him, whispering with him! The parents won’t approve of you dallying with some unknown boy, from a muggle orphanage to boot.”   
            He released her so suddenly she stumbled off balance before regaining her footing.   
            “If you were paying any attention at all you’d have noticed that Riddle is completely infatuated with the new girl!” Astrid spat, resisting the urge to rub her jaw. “And that I’m helping him with that!”   
            “Playing matchmaker, are we? What’s in it for you?”  
            “Abraxas!” Identical glacier gray eyes met in a long hard look. Astrid dropped her eyes first. “Riddle can’t stand Druella. He wants her and Abraxas broken up; we’ve agreed to work together to that end.” She sighed and absentmindedly rubbed her aching jaw, caught herself and hastily dropped her hand to her side before continuing. “He’s Abraxas’ best friend; I think if I help him get the girl he wants he’ll help me with Abraxas.”  
            “He promised you this?”  
            “Yes. He will help us. I suspect as much for his own benefit as ours.” Astrid rubbed her eyes. Fighting with her brother always made her tired. Decimus slid a comforting arm around her shoulders.  
            “Tell me about the new girl,” he coaxed. “I’ve been hearing the most wild stories.”  
            “There’s something… off… about her, Des.” Astrid hesitated. “She’s not quite right; creeps me out a little, to be honest.”  
            “What d’you mean, Az?” he gently pressed.  
            Astrid shrugged irritably.   
            “Just, a bunch of little things. She’s not _unfriendly_ , exactly, but when you talk to her she just stares right through you, perfectly polite, but completely uninterested.” Astrid sighed again. “And it’s really weird that she wants to be friends with Jolene Smythe. Jolene Smythe, of all people! She could easily be the most popular girl in her house, but she shuns everyone and befriends Jolene! Who does that?”  
            “Maybe she’s self conscious about her English?” Decimus suggested with a shrug.  
            “There’s nothing wrong with her English, it’s excellent, no matter what she leads other people to think,” Astrid said sharply. “She’s devious and creepy.”  
            “Sounds like jealousy to me, Valkyrie. What’s got your back up, did she slight you?”  
            “Nothing like that,” Astrid said tiredly. “You didn’t hear her in class today. The way she talked about Grindelwald; sent a shiver clear up my spine.”  
            “There are some disturbing stories coming out of Europe” Decimus agreed.   
            “It’s not just what she said, Des, it’s how she said it!” Astrid insisted. “Her voice was so uncanny, so flat and dead. It made my skin crawl. It gives me the heebies even thinking about it now.”  
            “And Riddle is completely infatuated?” Decimus mused. “Well, she is a looker, and that makes up for quit a lot.”  
            “There has to be more to it,” Astrid insisted. “Loads of girls are pretty.”  
            “Maybe,” Decimus said noncommittally. “You’re practically falling asleep on your feet. Let’s get you to bed. We can plot some more tomorrow.”  
            “Oh, another thing, probably not important,” Astrid said, smothering a yawn behind a slim hand. “Riddle wants Stubbins to have an extended stay in the hospital wing.”  
            “Did he say anything specific?”  
            “He never does. Just that Stubbins is overdue for a nasty accident, that his luck is bound to run out soon.” Astrid leaned against her brother, who momentarily tensed before sliding his arms around her; after all, there was no one else around to see the gesture.  
            “Please Mjölnir, for me?” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his chest.  
            “I’ll see what I can do.”   



	12. Chapter 12

            Tom lay on his back, staring up at the canopy above him, replaying Leliana’s interactions with Professor Merrythought in light of the information from Jolene. He was almost tempted to mention it to his followers, who were all puzzling over Merrythought’s strange behavior, but it was about Leliana and he couldn’t bring himself to share it with them. He already thought of her as belonging to him, something private and personal, and he did not share personal things with anyone. He also rather enjoyed knowing other people’s secrets, which was exactly what Leliana’s relationship with Merrythought was, based on the equally bewildered looks on the Ravenclaws’ faces during the lesson. His usual satisfaction was marred, however, by the knowledge that Jolene knew more about Leliana than he did. He’d seen them together, whispering, sharing secrets, Leliana leaning in close to hear what Jolene was saying with a delighted look on her face. He was surprisingly jealous, he wanted Leliana to sit like that with him – close and eager to hear what he had to say. The thought of him being remotely jealous of Jolene Smythe, of all people, was ludicrous. He rolled over and punched his pillow irritably. If only Leliana had been sorted into Slytherin. He would know so much more about her, wouldn’t have to worry about who she was giving her smiles to, who she was talking to in the common room at night. They would have all their classes together and he could easily have her watched and her movements reported directly to him, unlike now, where he had to rely on recycled gossip and uncertain sources, like Jolene. Tom ground his teeth and rolled onto his other side. It was insufferable that he had to rely on Jolene to relay his message to Leliana. She could forget, or decide against it, or any number of other things. He needed to see Leliana. She needed to know he had already claimed her, everyone needed to know.  
            Leliana wasn’t the only thing vexing him in the dark watches of the night. Sean had a rather nasty head cold and was sonorously snoring across the room. Earlier Abraxas had chucked a shoe at Sean to get him to roll over and that had stopped the snoring for a bit, but Sean had inevitably returned to his original position and the phlegmy rattle of his snoring had recommenced. Annoyed beyond endurance, Tom swore in parseltongue and grabbed for his wand.  
            “Silencio!” he hissed pointing his wand in Sean’s general direction. The snoring stopped suddenly, almost like a recording had been abruptly switched off.  
            “Oh thank god!” Abraxas groaned.  
            “More like ‘oh thank Tom,’ I reckon,” Julius said in a muffled voice.  
            “Do I have to hex the both of you as well?” Tom bit out.  
            He was answered by roaring silence. He put his wand down and flopped back onto his pillows with a grunt. Snippets of Leliana’s voice circled and replayed in his mind as he drifted off to sleep. _What you call monsters are superior forms beyond your understanding… his agents infiltrate our ranks and he raises our dead against us… Come find me…_  
  


_Tom… Come find me Tom…  
_             It was the middle of the night and he was in a strange town. It was a sinister landscape of deep, inky blues and watery blacks lit only by the pale silvery light of the moon high in the sky above. His attention was drawn to a flicker of movement some distance in front of him as a girl stepped out of the shadows, and another, smaller, person followed, clinging to her hand. The moonlight fell fully upon her face as she stopped in the middle of the street to cautiously look around, highlighting her features but leaving her eyes deep, jagged pits of shadow. Tom recognized Leliana immediately and almost called out to her, but something stopped him. _This is not my dream_ he thought, the realization dawning on him slowly.   
            “Leliana!” a man’s voice called.   
            “Oncle!” she answered softly in obvious relief, rushing towards the man and pulling the child along behind her.  
            A tall man stepped into the moonlight and shushed her. He looked around the street warily, resting his hands lightly on both girls’ shoulders.  
            “Leliana, where is Marjolaine?” he asked and Leliana shook her head. “Oh my hiver-fille,” he murmured embracing her. The child gulped back a sob and the man knelt to embrace her as well.  
            Tom could see Leliana crying, her tears leaving silvery bright streaks down her cheeks in the moonlight. The man stood and brushed them away gently.  
            “This is not the time for grief, hiver-fille. Bury your fear for death draws near, and angels never cry.” His voice was stern, yet soft. Leliana nodded obediently.  
            “I cannot leave without Matayas,” she said softly, stubbornly.   
            Tom thought he heard a touch of laughter in the man’s voice as he responded.  
            “I knew you wouldn’t leave without that evil tempered rabbit. I have him here.” The man extended a bundle in a sling which Leliana took with a small, sharp cry. “He’s only stunned, don’t worry. Bind him close to you so he stays safe when you use the portkey.”  
            “I will, Oncle,” she said, securing the bundle close to her body.  
            “Leliana, listen to me: the portkey is a broken violin bow under the watching tree. Hada’s burns will need immediate treatment once you’re in Wales. Immediate,” he stressed, “so she doesn’t wind up with nasty scars, understand?”  
            “But… you are coming with us, are you not?” Leliana clung to his sleeve, the fear naked in her voice. The man shook his head slowly and the girl, Hada, clung to him with a low cry.  
            “The enemy is too close. I will draw them away and then you and Hada –”  
            “Oncle, no! Do not leave me, you cannot die!”   
            “If the Maker wills it, and in my dying I am more alive than I have ever been. I will gladly trade my life to safeguard both of yours, hiver-fille.” The man gently touched both girls’ cheeks. “Walk, don’t run. Now go!” he commanded, and then they were all gone.  
            Tom stumbled down the twisting, sinister streets looking for Leliana. He finally came upon a great tree with a face carved into its massive trunk. _The Watching Tree_. He heard a twig snap underfoot behind him and spun around quickly to find himself face to face with Leliana. She was alone and dressed in sheer flowing white, beautiful and terrible in the cold moonlight.  
            “This is not where you belong,” she said softly, reaching for him. The lines of her body were both accentuated and obscured by her sheer robes and he suddenly noticed the wreath of thorns she wore like a crown. “Away with you…” she whispered caressing his cheek with an icy hand.  


            Tom bolted awake drenched in icy sweat, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He sat up and hugged his knees with a shiver. _What did I see?_ He wondered, rubbing his face. He realized with a jolt that the cheek she had touched in the dream was far colder to the touch than the other. Tom shivered again and got up. He needed a hot bath.  


            The silencing spell on Sean had mostly worn off by morning; Tom intentionally hadn’t cast a particularly strong one. The sounds of Sean’s snoring started to return, although at a considerably lower volume, shortly before the morning alarm rang. Tom lay in bed listening to the soft, phlegmy rattling distractedly as he picked apart last night’s strange dream. He was accustomed to how Legilimency felt when he intentionally used it, like sifting through the person’s thoughts and memories in a manner similar to rummaging through a box of records before he selected the ones he wanted to see, but this had felt completely different – almost as though he was in her dream with her, like a spectator trapped inside the movie they were watching. He was intrigued by the implications, and potential applications, of last night’s experience and felt sure that, with a little practice, he would not only be able to infiltrate other people’s dreams, but control them as well. He rolled out of bed when the alarm went off, still contemplating this newly discovered offshoot of Legilimency as he mechanically went through the motions of getting dressed and preparing for class.  



	13. Chapter 13

            Jolene carefully buttered a crumpet, observing Leliana from the corner of her eye. She enjoyed the company, but her new friend was still very much a mystery to her. She watched Leliana idly toy with her oatmeal, taking the occasional bite, while pointedly looking everywhere but at the Slytherin table. Or, more specifically, at a certain section of the Slytherin table.  
            “He’s watching you, you know,” she murmured to Leliana before taking a small bite of her crumpet. She chewed quickly and swallowed. “He pretends he isn’t, but he really is. Like he has been since you arrived.”  
            Leliana dropped her gaze to the bowl in front of her and tilted her head towards Jolene.  
            “Who is watching me, Jolie?”  
            “Everyone,” Jolene responded thoughtfully. It was hardly an exaggeration. Jolene could understand the curiosity about Leliana – she was a pretty transfer student fresh from an actual warzone and, most importantly, no one knew a thing about her. “But specifically, I was talking about Tom Riddle. He watches you all the time with the most peculiar look on his face,” she continued in a lower tone. Tanis and Kitty were sitting just across from them and Jolene knew they were straining to hear every word of their conversation.  
            “Does he now?” Leliana inquired, the corners of her lips turning up slightly. “Good.”  
            Jolene nibbled at her crumpet and waited for Leliana to elaborate. It hadn’t escaped her notice how closely Riddle watched Leliana’s every move. Sometimes there was something almost _predatory_ in his eyes when he looked at her. It wasn’t always there, but it crept in when he thought no one was watching and that’s what she found most unsettling.  
            “Leliana-” her words were cut off by the arrival of a post owl bearing a largish envelope addressed to Leliana.  
            Eagerly Leliana removed the envelope from the owl’s proffered leg, broke the seal and dumped the contents onto the table. A folded piece of parchment, a pack of cigarettes and a tube of lipstick tumbled from the envelope. Leliana immediately unfolded the letter and began reading, unconcerned with the cigarettes and lipstick, which she left lying on the table.  
            Jolene glanced over at the letter Leliana was so intently reading. The handwriting was a bold indigo scrawl across the page, garnished with ink smudges and something that looked suspiciously like a cigarette burn off to one side. _How odd_. Jolene turned her attention to the objects that had accompanied the letter. The cigarettes were American, wide and unfiltered, the Lucky Strike logo immediately recognizable, but what really drew her attention was the tube of lipstick. She had never worn lipstick. She had hardly seen it since the war started and she found Leliana’s utter nonchalance about being sent something so scarce almost shocking. She glanced up and saw that Tanis and Kitty were also staring in shock at the lipstick and cigarettes.  
            “Who’s sending you Luckies and lipstick, _Lil-ee-anna_?” Tanis asked, blithely mauling the pronunciation of Leliana’s name, as usual. “Have you got a secret boyfriend?”  
            Leliana’s eyes briefly flicked from her letter to Tanis. For a moment Jolene thought she was going to draw her wand and hex her right then and there.   
            “Tallulah usually sends cigarettes when she writes to me,” Leliana finally said distractedly as she returned to her letter.  
            “Why does she do that? D’you smoke, chick-a-dee?” Kitty asked breathlessly.   
            “Because cigarettes are more valuable than currency,” Leliana replied calmly, nearing the bottom of the first page. The parchment rustled as she set it face down on the table and started reading the second page. “One can trade them for almost anything you might need, no matter where you happen to be. They are quite a useful thing to have on hand. Germans love Luckies,” she added as an afterthought.  
            Jolene felt her throat close and her body tense at Leliana’s off handed comment. She stared at the package of cigarettes innocuously lying on the table and wondered if the soldiers who killed her father smoked Luckies; if they had smoked one after they shot him and left him to bleed out on the sand. The thought made her head ache.  
            “Why did she send the lipstick, is it to help you catch the fella you’ve got your eye on?” Tanis asked with an insincere simper.  
            Leliana leveled a hard look at Tanis. The silence was long enough to make Jolene uncomfortable, and from the way Kitty squirmed, she could tell it made her uncomfortable too.  
            “Tallulah sent me lipstick because she thinks I looked peaky,” Leliana replied, her words like chipped ice. She picked up the lipstick and abruptly turned to Jolene. “Would you like to try some, Jolie?”  
            Jolene looked from Leliana to the proffered lipstick, uncertain of the intention behind the gesture. Leliana smiled encouragingly, but still Jolene hesitated.  
            “I w-wouldn’t know h-how to apply it,” she said hesitantly.  
            “It is simple, just follow the shape of your lips. Here, you can use my mirror,” Leliana murmured, pressing the tube of lipstick into Jolene’s hand before drawing a beaded clutch from her school bag. The tube felt cool and smooth in her hand, the weight of it somehow reassuring. She cautiously opened the bullet-like casing and twisted the lipstick up into view. It was a beautiful sheer red, bright and cheerful, the color of summer poppies. She watched Leliana snap open one of the bag’s seven compartments and rummage through various tubes and pots before drawing out a beautifully enameled compact. Jolene wordlessly accepted the compact and pressed the catch to open it. Still she hesitated, uncomfortably aware of the attention being focused on her.  
            “Well, put it on already, Jolene,” Kitty squeaked, her eyes shining with excitement. She didn’t have to look to know Tanis was seething with jealousy.   
            Still Jolene hesitated. “I don’t know,” she finally said, setting the mirror down carefully. “It w-would pro-probably just look s-silly on me.”  
            “I do not think so,” Leliana said, setting the second page of her letter on the table with a smile. “Let us test my theory.” Leliana plucked the lipstick from Jolene’s unresisting fingers and gently grasped her chin. Jolene couldn’t help noticing how oddly cold her fingers were; Leliana’s hand felt like it was leaching the warmth from her face.  
            “I think this shade will look lovely on you, Jolie,” Leliana murmured as she carefully smoothed the lipstick over Jolene’s lips. “Press your lips, like this,” she instructed. “Lovely. Positively lovely.”  
            Jolene smiled at Leliana, even though she knew it looked awkward and forced, before picking up the compact and releasing the catch. She snuck a quick glance at Tanis and Kitty and their inscrutable expressions made her even more nervous. Mentally bracing herself for the worst, Jolene looked in the mirror.  
            It looked… surprisingly good on her. Instead of the clown-like mouth she had been imagining, the color was astonishingly pretty – obviously red, but flattering. She flinched slightly in surprise when Leliana gently brushed a lock of her hair back from her face before carefully anchoring it with a pin casually pulled from her own upswept hair.   
            “The color is perfect for you. Please, I think you should keep it,” Leliana said lightly, her lips parting slowly in a radiant smile as she pressed the tube of lipstick into Jolene’s palm. Reflexively her fingers curled around it. The metal casing felt cold and silky smooth against her fingertips.  
            “Oh, no! I c-couldn’t possibly,” Jolene said, flattered and flustered from all the attention, trying to give the lipstick back.  
            “Please, Jolie. I insist. It would only be wasted on me; I hardly ever wear lipstick and I already have a tube of my preferred color.” Leliana carefully pocketed her letter and tucked the compact, and pack of cigarettes, into her clutch, which she then dropped into her school bag. Casually she drew her wand and pointed it at Jolene, muttering a spell under her breath. She momentarily felt an odd tingling in her lips, but the sensation quickly passed.  
            “A sticking charm,” Leliana explained succinctly at Jolene’s quizzical expression. “So it will not smudge or fade all day. I do not know how the Others get by without them. They must go through quite a bit of lipstick, I suppose,” she mused, a devious smile curving her lips as she glanced towards a certain person sitting at the Slytherin table.  
            Suddenly Leliana’s gaze dropped to the table and her half eaten oatmeal as a faint blush slithered across her cheeks. Jolene shifted slightly so that she more directly faced Tanis and Kitty. Just beyond her giggling former friends, Jolene could see Tom Riddle throwing molten, hungry glances at Leliana whenever he thought his friends sitting around him were distracted. If she had to hazard a guess, she’d bet Leliana’s sudden blush came from one of those looks. Slight movement in the periphery of her vision caught her attention and Jolene refocused her gaze just in time to catch the quick look exchanged between Tanis and Kitty. _That can’t be good_. Kitty was a terrible gossip, all ingenious fluff and earnest smiles, but not a touch of actual malice in her. The real danger came from the way she cheerfully repeated all the meanness and spite Tanis poured down her ear with such a guileless manner that everyone forgot that her main source of ‘information’ was Tanis and her jealousy-laced ichor. Tanis had had a crush on Jack Stubbins since third year. She needed to warn Leliana; Tanis had a petty and spiteful streak a mile wide.   
            “We should get going to class, don’t you think?” she asked Leliana, urgently jogging her elbow.  
            “Yes, of course Jolie,” Leliana murmured distractedly rubbing at her cheek.  
            Jolene stole another look at the Slytherins as she and Leliana left their table. Riddle was finishing his breakfast, the very portrait of innocence, but his friends were watching Jack like a hungry pack of hyenas. Unease shivered down her spine like ice water.  
            “Is something the matter?” Leliana inquired as she slid her arm through Jolene’s.   
            “Oh, n-no. It’s n-nothing,” Jolene replied hurriedly, leaning into Leliana with a nervous smile. “I just thought I forgot my essay in the common room for a moment. You know how tyrannical Professor Madstone can be about homework assignments.”  
            She thought about Jack ‘accidentally’ lighting her hair on fire the previous year. She didn’t owe Jack Stubbins anything.


	14. Chapter 14

_Apparently Stubbins didn’t learn anything from his stay in the hospital wing_.  Tom thought, chafing with irritation as he watched Stubbins trying to flirt with Leliana during Herbology.  Next to Tom, Abraxas was ineffectually jabbing at the Bubotuber they were supposed to be tending.  
            “If you aerate the roots any more you are going to kill it, you know,” he commented to Abraxas, his attention still fixed on Leliana.  She appeared to be paying attention to Stubbins because it was the polite thing to do, not because she was actually interested in him.  He hoped.  
            “I bloody hate plants!” Abraxas bust out, giving the Bubotuber one last vicious jab before throwing the tool down on the table, which it promptly bounced up off of and cracked Tom across the forearm.  They had rolled their sleeves up at the beginning of the lesson, as instructed by Professor Beery, and both boys stared at the place the tool had struck.  The gash took a moment to bleed, and then proceeded to do so, profusely.  Tom clamped a hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding and leveled a murderous look at Abraxas, whom he would have hexed if he had a hand free to do so.  Suddenly, Tom felt someone touching his arm and he spun towards them, the insult dying on his lips as he recognized Leliana.    
            “Let me see,” she said softly, motioning to his injured arm.  Tom stared at her, his mind working furiously.  No one aside from Abraxas had noticed he’d been injured yet, including Stubbins, who was still staring at where Leliana had been standing with slack jawed amazement that she was no longer there.  Tom realized that Leliana must have been watching him, probably through Jolene, to have noticed he’d been injured so quickly and the feelings of satisfaction and triumph that realization gave him momentarily eclipsed the annoyance he felt at being injured.  
            “Let me see,” she repeated, nudging his hand away from the gash.  
            She watched it bleed for a moment before pressing her hand over his wound and he felt a rush of heat at her touch.  
            “That should be better now,” Leliana said lifting her hand and smiling shyly at him.  She touched his chest lightly, just over his painfully thumping heart, before returning to her table and waiving off Stubbins.  
            “There’s no mark,” Abraxas said in wonder, staring at Tom’s arm.  “No sign of any injury at all.  How’d she do that?”  
            Tom looked down at his arm and felt a jolt of surprise when he saw that Abraxas was right.  There was no sign of any injury whatsoever.  
            “Looks like your lucky day,” Tom replied coldly, turning back to the Bubotuber plant.  “Try not to squander your good fortune, will you?”  


            Tom mulled over the Stubbins problem for the rest of Herbology and was still preoccupied with finding an acceptable solution the next day during of History of Magic.  Somehow Professor Binns took material that should have been exciting – such as the goblin wars – and reduced it to mind numbing tedium.  Tom, having already read and outlined the text over the summer holiday, habitually used the period to write essays for his other classes or probe the minds of his distracted classmates for useful information.  In the seat next to him, Abraxas was working on another drawing, carefully inking all the fine lines of the dragon he had done in pencil last week.  It was shaping up very nicely, probably one of the best drawings Abraxas had done so far.  Tom would wait until it was closer to completion before something happened to it; he hadn’t forgiven his injury in Herbology.  Turning his attention back to his other classmates, Tom skipped over his housemates – he had plenty of opportunity to sift through their memories while they slept – and considered the Hufflepuffs in the room.  The first several Tom considered had little to offer of interest, a few secrets that would come in handy if he needed to exert pressure on particularly recalcitrant individuals, but nothing particularly noteworthy.  However, that monotony changed when he sifted through Henry Boot’s mind.  As one of the beaters for his house team, Boot was ideally placed to solve Tom’s Stubbins problem during the next Hufflepuff – Ravenclaw quiddich match, which, conveniently enough, was set for the upcoming Saturday.  With any luck Stubbins would remain out of the picture for the first Hogsmead weekend in two weeks, clearing away Tom’s most relentless competition for Leliana’s attention.  One or two more friendly overtures to Jolene and he was sure to have Leliana all to himself.  He just had to corner Boot after class, alone, and convince him it was in his best interest to do Tom Riddle a favor; which shouldn’t be difficult, give what Boot had to hide.  
            Tom kicked Abraxas’ foot to get his attention before leaning over and whispering “do not wait for me after class.  I need a few words alone with Boot.”  Tom motioned in Boot’s general direction with his chin and Abraxas followed his pointed gaze before nodding curtly.  “Make it happen,” Tom instructed and again Abraxas nodded.  History of Magic couldn’t end soon enough.  


            Boot’s bag tore as he started to make his way towards the classroom door.  Henry knelt to collect his things, repaired his bag and suddenly noticed he was alone in the room with Tom Riddle standing over him.  
            “Rotten luck, that,” Tom said softly looking down at Henry with heavy lidded, veiled eyes.  
            “Isn’t it just,” Henry replied uncomfortably.  He found the predatory gleam in Riddle’s eyes unsettling.  
            Tom casually leaned against a desk, enjoying Boot’s discomfort.  
            “Just out of curiosity, is your boyfriend usually the jealous type, or was last night’s quarrel just a little spat between lovers?” Tom asked in a calculatedly casual tone.  Henry visible blanched.  
            “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Boot protested, stumbling in his haste to stand up.  
            Tom sighed.  It was so much easier when people didn’t try to equivocate or play games.  Clearly Henry Boot wanted to make this whole business that much harder for himself.  He advanced on Boot, invading his personal space, making him uncomfortable.  
            “Yes, you do,” Tom said patiently.  “I would prefer we do this the easy way, where all your secrets stay safely hidden away, in exchange for a mutually beneficial favor.”  Tom regarded Henry’s hard, uncooperative countenance thoughtfully before adding “do not make me out you.  I will start with the team, and then maybe your boyfriend’s parents, who will undoubtedly tell your parents, a couple of professors…” Tom trailed off suggestively as Henry again blanched.  “I see you get the idea.”  
            “Wh-why are you doing this?  What’ve I ever done to you?” Henry stammered.  
            “Absolutely nothing,” Tom replied calmly.  “To be perfectly honest, I do not bloody well care who you, or anybody else, snogs.  My only problem is when people, people like Jack Stubbins, plant themselves between me and what I want.”  Tom leaned in closer.  “And I would like for you to take care of him for me.”  
            “Why me?” Henry asked cautiously, surreptitiously inching away from Tom.  
            “Because you could easily have your own motives for wanting Stubbins out of commission.  I understand he is actually a rather good quiddich player,” Tom said in a light, pleasant voice.  “When he is not hounding Leliana, that is,” he added darkly.  
            “This is all over a girl?” Henry asked incredulously.  “You’re going to ruin my life over a girl?”  
            “No, I am going to ruin Jack Stubbins’ life over a girl,” Tom corrected him calmly, again closing the space between them.  “ _If_ I ruin your life it will be simply because I can.  Nothing personal; you seem like a nice enough chap, and really, I would rather not.  Bigger fish to fry and such, you understand, but I cannot have this traced back to me.”  
            “And what if I expose you?  Tell everyone what a snake you really are?” Henry asked defiantly.  
            “I will end you,” Tom replied softly.  A slow, cruel smile split his lips as he added, almost as an afterthought, “not that anyone would believe you.  This is _me_ , after all and I am _untouchable_.”  Tom watched the fight die out in Boot’s eyes with a thrill of satisfaction.  No matter how many times he saw it, it never lost its charm.  
            “What d’you want me to do?” Henry asked with bitter resignation.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering if you've missed something, you haven't. I decided that if I haven't even outlined the scene of Stubbins' first "accident" in the almost 4 years since I started this behemoth, I'm probably not going to ever want to write it. So instead of putting this on indefinite hiatus while I (again) try to will myself to write it I'll just tell y'all what happened:   
> Stubbins had an unfortunate fall from one of the moving staircases. There were quite a few students on it at the time and one of the younger ones lost their balance and fell into him. Decimus was able to catch the first year before they tumbled over the edge, but Stubbins was out of reach. Julius and Sean were on hand to help Astrid keep the younger students calm while Stubbins' friends ran for help. Everyone agreed it was an unfortunate accident and the student body had to listen to a very long, very dull, lecture on staircase safety before dinner.   
> Tom offered to walk Leliana to all her classes; she allowed him to walk with her to the classes they had together.


	15. Chapter 15

            Tom spent the rest of the week quietly stalking Leliana.  He hung back, watching, waiting.  If she glanced his way he had a smile ready and he lingered in the classes they had together, just in case she was too shy to approach him unless he was alone.  It was agony, but he was patient; he needed for her to approach him, he couldn’t be seen chasing after a girl.  He was beginning to think Jolene hadn’t delivered his message when he received a note from Leliana in Herbology.  _Join me on a walk around the grounds tomorrow?_   Tom could have shouted for joy, instead he caught Leliana’s eye and nodded with one of his most devastating smiles.  She blushed prettily and lowered her eyes, not quite hiding her own smile behind a slim hand before she turned back to her notes.  Astrid, a little too observant for his comfort, noticed their interaction and leveled a very pointed look at him.  Tom sighed, there’d be no escaping Astrid now.  He found her intense interest in his pursuit of Leliana annoying.  She would have to be satisfied with her own speculations and conjecture, he had no intention of telling her anything.  


            As expected, Astrid was lying in wait for him.  Tom had lingered over packing up his things, hoping Leliana would approach him, when she pounced.  
            “Making any headway with your hoped for conquest?”  Astrid whispered quickly, settling on the edge of his table.  
            Tom gave Astrid a stony faced look.  Over her shoulder he noticed Leliana had been walking towards him but changed direction when she saw Astrid, slipping an arm through Jolene’s as she headed out the classroom door.  _Hell and damnnation!_ he thought angrily, resisting the urge to either hex Astrid or wallop her with his Herbology text.  Magic was all well and good, but sometimes good old fashioned physical violence was just as, if not more, satisfying.  
            “If you insist on ‘helping’ me, you could start with not scaring away the girl I am _trying_ to attract,” Tom spat angrily.  
            Astrid shrugged nonchalantly.  “Girls want desirable guys.  If no other girls seem interested in you she’ll assume it’s for a good reason and steer clear.”  
            “So I am supposed to be grateful that you are feigning interest in me?” Tom asked with a disgusted look.  “I think not.”  
            “You should,” Astrid said calmly.  “Otherwise she might get spooked by some of those nasty rumors about what happens to people around you.”  
            “What nasty rumors?” Tom demanded, leaning forward and slamming a hand down on the table between them hard enough to rattle the pots of the closest plants.  He was close enough to see Astrid’s pupils dilate, but she showed no other sign of fear.  “The only nasty rumors about me are the ones spread by you.”  
            “You, Tom Riddle,” Astrid said with as much dignity as she could muster, “are one of the few people I don’t spread nasty rumors about.”  
            Tom looked her in the eye long and hard before leaning back with a veiled expression.  “Well done, Astrid.  I almost believe you.”  
            “Believe what you want; it’s the truth, not that truth really matters,” Astrid said coldly, crossing her arms over her chest.  
            Tom studied Astrid with a critical eye.  He didn’t doubt that he could break her, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight and the moment he brought her down he’d have her brother to contend with.  Not that he couldn’t handle Decimus, but he found it preferable to avoid open confrontation with popular and/or powerful individuals.  Besides, with her intelligence network and influence, Astrid was far more useful as an ally than an enemy.  Tom’s assessment took only a few seconds but he let the silence stretch because it made most people nervous and chatty.  Not Astrid.  She stared right back, arms crossed over her chest, waiting for him to say something.  While Tom usually admired her tenacity and nerve, it was becoming bothersome in this particular situation.  The solution was so painfully obvious, he was surprised it hadn’t occurred to him before.  
            “Your brother knows you have set your cap for Abraxas?” he asked abruptly.  If Astrid was surprised, she recovered quickly.    
            “Yes, he knows,” she responded guardedly.  
            “And he is willing to lend a helping hand, if needs be?”  It was a statement couched as a question.  Astrid picked up his meaning immediately.  
            “Yes.  He’s willing to help.”  Astrid uncrossed her arms and leaned towards him across the table.  “What d’you have in mind?”  
            “Argos’ favorite type of girl is the one claimed by someone else,” Tom said slowly, watching Astrid carefully.  “Abraxas hates his brother and wants nothing to do with his conquests…”  He smiled as understanding flashed in Astrid’s eyes.  
            “And Druella fawns over Argos.  She’s low hanging fruit.”  Astrid smiled then bit her lip as she found the hitch in an otherwise flawless plan.  “But Argos hardly even notices that she exists.”  
            “That is where Decimus comes in,” Tom said calmly.  “He just has to draw Argos’ attention to Druella and the allure of bagging his brother’s girl will tip him over the edge.  Druella has not exactly been subtle about wanting to trade up, you know.”  
            Astrid smiled and nodded.  “Abraxas would consider it the ultimate betrayal.  He’d never forgive her.”  
            “And be heartbroken and ready for you to act as a balm to his wounded … heart … and ego,” Tom finished with a predatory smile.    
            “It’s so simple and elegant!” Astrid exclaimed.  “Perfectly untraceable; the perfect plan.”  
            “You just have to sell it to Decimus.  I will create insecurity and doubt about Druella in Abraxas’ mind, set the stage for her fall.”  Tom watched Astrid’s eyes burn with excited malice and delight.  Dangling Abraxas in front of Astrid made her forget all about his pursuit of Leliana.  She’d be too busy plotting against Druella to bother with his other machinations.  Tom would get his girl and if Astrid played her cards right, she’d get her guy.    



	16. Chapter 16

            Tom didn’t particularly care for quiddich, but the house games provided an excellent distraction for some of his more covert operations.  This particular game was going to get Stubbins out of his way for a while, which couldn’t happen soon enough as far as he was concerned.  Disinterest in quiddich was the exception, rather than the rule, at Hogwarts and the great hall was buzzing with excitement the next morning as students and faculty alike waited for the first match of the year.  Several seats up the table, one of the players for the house team was banging on about how last year’s Hufflepuff team had been ‘an unstoppable juggernaut, punching through defensive lines with pile driving force and precisely executed plays,’ but a few key players had graduated and ‘everyone’ was ‘desperate’ to see if the new line up was as ‘formidable’ as the previous had been.  Apparently, Griffindor had been clamoring for the first matchup, but the game had unexpectedly gone to Ravenclaw which was perfectly fine with Slytherin’s team.  It sounded like _someone_ was trying a bit too hard to emulate their favorite quiddich announcer from the wireless; it was incredibly grating.  Tom reflected that the competition to be top in all his classes would have been a lot stiffer if his schoolmates cared half as much about academics as quiddich.  
            Astrid noticed him watching Stubbins and commented wryly, “he seems in high spirits.”  She flashed a predatory smile.  “Reckon he’ll have a good match?  The Ravenclaws certainly hope so.”   
            Tom responded with a noncommittal grunt and turned his attention to pushing his eggs around on his plate.  Owls had started arriving and were delivering post to eager students.  He didn’t receive post, pretty much the only people he knew in the wizarding world were at school with him.    
            Glancing over at Leliana he noticed she had received a letter; she was smiling and talking to Jolene as she opened it.  As she read the letter her smile faltered, then faded and by the time she reached the bottom of the first page her hands were shaking and her face was ashen.  She murmured something to Jolene and hastily left the great hall.  Tom was after her in a flash, covering ground quickly with long strides.  She was out of sight by the time he was out of the great hall.  Tom listened carefully and then followed the faint sound of footsteps down the hallway to his right in an easy lope.  Leliana was still nowhere to be seen at the next passageway juncture, but the sound of the girls’ lavatory door slamming shut led him to her.  


>>><<< 

             Astrid watched Tom follow Leliana out of the great hall.  She reflected that ‘pursued’ was probably a more accurate description, his infatuation was becoming more and more apparent.  It was unlike him to be so obvious.  
            “Looks like the hunt is on,” she commented dryly to Druella.  
            Druella, who had been using a teaspoon to admire her own reflection, shot Astrid a supercilious look.  “I doubt it’ll be a long hunt, everyone knows continental girls are easy.”  
            “She’s Welsh, actually,” Julius said.  
            “Is she now?  How d’you know?” Astrid asked, leaning forward.  Julius was a natural politician – morally ambiguous, slick and well informed – he was an excellent resource for fact checking gossip.    
            “My father recognized her last name.  Turns out her grandparents are a couple of retired aurors, apparently some of the Ministry’s finest, and her father’s a healer down in London,” Julius said with a smirk.  
            “How very interesting.”  Astrid tapped her chin thoughtfully.  
            “Not really.  So she’s a Welsh slut, so what?” Druella said with a shrug.    
            Abraxas leveled a cool look at Druella.  “I wouldn’t talk like that around Tom; he seems awfully keen on her.”    
            “I don’t see why you’re all so in awe of him.  Sure, he’s talented, but he could be a mudblood for all we know,” Druella sniffed derisively.    
            Her comment was followed by a nasty billowing silence.  Astrid could see the boys shifting away from Druella, distancing themselves from her.  Even Abraxas.  _Really I ought to thank her_ , Astrid thought with a small, secretive smile.  _She’s doing really the most marvelous job of turning everyone against her, I hardly have to do a thing_.    
            “Druella, dear, mudbloods don’t get sorted into Slytherin.  It’s not a thing that happens,” she said with saccharine sweetness.  “And girls like Vallen are never easy.  With looks like that they don’t have to be to get men to do whatever they want.”    
            “So you think the only thing guys care about is looks?” Abraxas asked.    
            “Not the only thing, but I think it’s a major contributing factor,” Astrid said calmly.  “Tom wasn’t the only one who wanted to follow her, he was just the quickest.”    
            “Your theory isn’t particularly flattering for your own looks,” Julius commented.  
            “How d’you mean?” Astrid asked suspiciously.  
            “Well, if you were pretty you’d be swarmed with guys, but it seems you’re actually not that good looking because your guy troubles seem to be limited to helping Tom get the girl he wants.  And it isn’t you.” Julius smirked at her nastily.    
            “What do you know about my quote, unquote, guy troubles?  Nothing!” Astrid snapped.  “I’m here to discuss a topic of mutual interest: making Tom Riddle happy.  And right now he wants Stubbins to have another, nastier, accident.  So do I have to take care of this on my own, or do you chuckleheads want to help out?”  
            “Settle your feathers,” Sean said soothingly.  “We’re all on the same side.”  He glanced around carefully and then he and Julius leaned in towards Astrid.  “It’s not like we’ve been sitting with our thumbs up our asses you know.”  
            “Well that’s a pleasant surprise,” Astrid hissed acerbically.  “What have you done so far?”  
            Sean looked at Julius, who smirked and shrugged.    
            “My cousin is in Ravenclaw,” Julius said softly.  “I gave her a special potion to tip into Stubbins’ pumpkin juice this morning.”  He smiled smugly and added, “Who says poor relations can’t be useful?”  
            “What’s this ‘special potion’ supposed to do?” Astrid asked doubtfully.   
            “It’ll take a bit to kick in, but once it does he’ll feel as drunk as David’s sow.  Everyone’ll just think he’s had a head injury or something,” Julius said.  Sean snickered.    
            “Clever,” Astrid acknowledged thoughtfully, before adding “but not a sure thing.”  
            “So what have you done then?” Julius demanded.  
            “I doctored the broom polish,” Astrid said simply, picking at her nails in feigned indifference.  She had elevated misdirection into an art form.    
            “Well isn’t that the cleverest thing?” Julius said sarcastically.  
            “Isn’t it just,” Astrid replied distractedly as she examined her nails more closely.  “Everyone uses it, no one ever questions it.”  
            “So how does that target Stubbins?” Sean asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.  
            “My doctored broom polish contains a special ingredient that only reacts with a certain type of potion,” Astrid explained as she fished a nail file out of her pocket.  “The same type of potion that I ‘accidentally’ spilled in Stubbins’ bag yesterday.  All over his quiddich gloves.  They always polish their brooms before a game, just in case someone has tried to tamper with them.”  She proceeded to file her nails serenely.    
            “That…” Julius paused thoughtfully, “actually _is_ pretty clever.”  He regarded Astrid for a moment before grudgingly adding “well done.”  
            “Oh?  So I have your approval then?  My life is now complete,” she said waspishly, shot a quick glance down the table at her brother and abruptly got up.  “Seems I’m being summoned by my loving brother.  Good day.”  
  



	17. Chapter 17

            Tom hesitated in front of the girls’ lavatory door.  More likely than not, Leliana was alone in the bathroom; everyone else would still be in the great hall finishing breakfast and talking about the upcoming quiddich match; furthermore, this wasn’t even the closest girls’ bathroom to the hall.  While he wasn’t particularly keen to just walk into a girls’ lavatory, waiting outside the door for her, for who knows how long, looked creepier.  His hand hovered next to the door while he weighed his options before he committed; really, he’d already chosen his course the moment he’d followed Leliana out of the hall, he might as well see it through he decided with a sigh as he pushed open the door.    
            Leliana was standing next to the row of sinks, drying her face with a towel.  A long, thick, rather crumpled piece of parchment lay where it had fallen on the floor next to her feet.  Tom had almost reached her before she noticed his presence and spun to face him.  The sounds of her heels on the floor and sudden indrawn breath echoed softly off of the room’s tile surfaces in the damp hush.  
            “Excuse me, I thought this was a girls’ lavatory,” she said in a slightly breathless voice, backing up against the sink.    
            “It is,” he replied softly and knelt to retrieve the letter at her feet.  Carefully he smoothed and refolded the letter before handing it back to her.  “I think you dropped this.”  
            “Are you sure you do not want to read it first?” she snapped, and then almost immediately blushed with a guilty look.  “I am sorry; that was completely uncalled for.  I do not know why I said it,” she said softly, closing her fingers slowly around the folded letter he had placed in her hand before she slipped it into her pocket.    
            While Tom would have liked to agree that her implicit accusation was uncalled for, he knew it wouldn’t score him any points and he very much wanted to win her over.   
            “Whether or not it was uncalled for, I rather deserved it.”  He managed a small self-deprecating smile and she smiled faintly in return.  “It started as an accident, you know, just for the record.”  He looked away from her, chewing on his lower lip while he measured out an artfully timed pause.  “You looked so upset when you left the hall, I was concerned,” he finally said softly, avoiding her eyes.    
            “Oh,” she murmured, tracing her lips with nervous fingers, “I hope I did not make too much of a scene.  I just had to…get away.”    
            “I am sure it was eclipsed by the scene I probably made by chasing after you.”  He approached her carefully, as if she were some delicate and untamed creature ready to bolt.  “Bad news?” he asked softly, motioning to the letter now in her pocket.  She nodded jerkily.  “From home?”   
            “Yes – No.”  She sighed and then clarified “from France.”  She hesitated, twisting the towel between her fingers.  She avoided his eyes, biting her lip nervously.    
            He waited patiently, using the time to memorize every detail of how beautiful she was in the murky, diffused light – the luster of her dark, glossy hair, the shadows her wet, spiky eyelashes cast across her cheeks, that her nails were painted the palest shade of peach he had ever seen and that she smelled, faintly, of white lilies and jasmine mixed with something else he couldn’t quite place.  
            “Éponine, my dearest friend at Beauxbatons, wrote to tell me that my aunt Athénaïs is missing, presumed dead, and our friend, _Théophile_ , was shot; he did not survive.”  Her voice cracked as she struggled to control her emotions.  “Théo was Grand-damn’s cousin’s grandson, and now he is gone too,” she managed to choke out before hiding her face in her hands.  “Why should it be that I am still alive while he is dead?  Why are all the people I love dying? _”  
_             Tom stared at her with slack jawed horror.  Following her had been a terrible idea; he was entirely unprepared to deal with the situation in which he presently found himself.  Unfortunately, as much as he really wanted to turn around and run out the door, that wasn’t an option – not if he wanted to win Leliana, something he still very much wanted.  Awkwardly he reached out to her before checking himself, his hand hovering over her arm while he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do.  Her emotion filled him with an unfamiliar feeling he couldn’t quite identify and wasn’t sure he liked.  Hesitantly he touched her shoulder and apprehension swelled in his chest when her body tensed at his touch.  Her tension lasted only a moment, however, before some invisible barrier between them broke and she rushed forward like water to hide her face against him with a half swallowed sob.  Instinctively he started to recoil from the physical contact but caught himself just in time and even managed to lean forward slightly to meet her headlong rush.  Slowly he closed his arms around her trembling form, feeling awkward and uncertain; no one had ever turned to him for comfort before.    
            He tried to think of something eloquent to say, and failed.  Lacking eloquence, he decided on simplicity: “I am sorry” he whispered huskily and felt the points of her fingers press against his chest in response.  It felt like something inside him clicked together as he held her, like a long sought puzzle piece falling into place.  It was incredibly unsettling.    
            Both out of curiosity and as much needed distraction from the onslaught of his own roiling unfamiliar emotions, Tom cautiously reached into her mind; he wanted to know more about the people she was mourning, to know more about her.  He’d always had an uncanny aptitude for Legilimency, learning to browse through minds without even the usual sine qua non of eye contact while his classmates were still struggling with casting non-verbal spells, but it was far more difficult than usual, impeded by his anarchic emotional state and the unsettling distraction of her body pressed so closely to his.  He slid across the surface of her mind, images hazy and evanescent until suddenly a memory of a woman arose from the depths – dark haired and pale skinned, with vivacious Coventry-blue eyes, more glamorous than any Hollywood starlet with her soup can curls, voluptuous curves and tiny waist, clad in pigeon’s blood ruby silk and silvery furs.  _Athénaïs_.  Tom absorbed the memory for a moment before carefully searching further.  This time it didn’t take as long for an image of who he was looking for to present itself: a young colossus, broad shouldered, brawny and bare chested, his suspenders hanging negligently from his trousers as he paused in the task of chopping wood, the enormous ax resting casually against his shoulder.  He was larger than life with pale gold, sun-glazed skin, chestnut hair and sea gray eyes.  _Théophile_ _._  
            “You do not have to do that you know,” Leliana said softly, tilting her head to look up at him.  “I would have told you, if you asked.”    
            “Do what?” Tom asked, slightly disoriented by his abrupt ejection from her mind.  He felt himself blushing under Leliana’s reproachful look, embarrassed both by having been caught as well as how handily she had ejected him.  “I am sorry,” he said softly.  “It is a bad habit.”  He regarded her curiously.  “How did you know?  Most people cannot tell.”   
            Leliana smiled shyly and pressed her cheek to his chest.  “My grandparents are very skilled at Legilimency.  We have all gotten quite good at recognizing it, and defending against it, out of necessity.”  She started to move away from him and he reluctantly released her.  He tried to find a casual position for his hands before giving up and stuffing them into his pockets awkwardly as she fidgeted.  He enjoyed her attention, being alone with her with no one else watching; he wasn’t ready for it to end.  
            “You do it surprisingly well,” she added as an afterthought, meeting his eyes.  She held his gaze for a moment before smiling shyly and looking away.  
            “Would now be a good time for our walk around the grounds?” he asked.  When she hesitated he added, “I do not imagine you really feel up to facing all those people right now.”    
            “Not especially,” she admitted, tossing the towel into the laundry bin.  “You would not rather watch the game?” she asked shyly.  
            “Not especially,” Tom said, offering her his arm.  “I do not particularly care for quiddich, do you?”  
            “Not especially,” Leliana responded, taking his proffered arm.  “I could use some sunshine and fresh air.”  



	18. Chapter 18

            Tom led Leliana towards the lake, carefully picking a path around the largest mud puddles, drinking in her smile as he rattled off what he could remember of the history of the castle and grounds.    
            “That is all well and interesting,” she interrupted him as they reached the lake, “but I am far more interested in hearing about you.”    
            “There is not much to tell, I am afraid,” he said with forced cheerfulness.  “And what there is, is not particularly interesting,” he added.  The last thing he wanted to talk about was himself, or to be more specific, about his non-school life.  He didn’t want to tell her about the orphanage.  She would find out eventually, it was inevitable, but he wanted to win her regard so thoroughly that she wouldn’t be put off by his unpalatable circumstances first.    
            “Well, that is a change.  So far everyone I have talked to has been more than happy to tell me all about themselves and their families – every marginally noteworthy thing they have ever done, what jobs their relatives have with the ministry, how they are distantly related to the inventor of some such useless charm – whether I want to hear it or not.”  She paused a moment before adding thoughtfully, “I suppose one does not meet a large number of new people at this school.”    
            “After first year – no, not especially,” he replied, sliding a sidelong glance at her.  Her expression was veiled, as seemed to be her habit whenever she spoke about anything other than superficial, pleasant things.  She was harder to read than most people he met.  
            She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.  “I suppose I should not be surprised, Beauxbatons was not so different – these schools are rather insular, I suppose – but at least there I knew more people.”  She sighed and looked across the lake.    
            “Are your housemates really so boring?” he asked.  
            “Not only my housemates.”  She smiled wryly.  “Most people are, you know.  That is unless you are willing to make the effort to find how they are not, and sometimes that can take quite a bit of diligent searching.”    
            “I assume you are telling me these things because you do not think I am boring?” he asked.  
            “I am talking to you because you and Jolene are the only ones who have the sense not to ask me if I had ‘ _a jolly good summer_.’”   
            He smiled at her mimicry.  It was exactly the sort of indifferent question he despised, which, nevertheless, people asked all the time in a misguided attempt at manners.    
            “How original.  I imagine they were working up to asking about your thrilling escape from occupied France.”  He watched her watch the lake for a moment before asking, “how did you get out of France?”  
            She looked at him swiftly.  “You already know the answer to that.”  
            His brows quirked in confusion.  “How can I know what you have not told me?”    
            She pointedly raised her eyebrows, but remained silent.  
            He thought for a moment before it occurred to him.  “The dream.  That dream with the…” he paused uncertainly “…The Watching Tree.”    
            She gave the barest hint of a nod.  
            “Who was the child?” he asked.  What he really wanted to know was who Marjolaine was, but years of experience wheedling information out of less than willing persons had taught him that that asking sensitive questions like that was something one eased into, after building up the target’s trust and confidence.  He would be patient and she would eventually tell him who Marjolaine was, and how she died.  It was inevitable.    
            “Hadassah.”  She regarded him with an indecipherable expression.  “You already know that she is now an orphan, like you, from reading my letter.”    
            _Damn that letter!_   He thought in annoyance.  Apparently her not making a scene over his little theft should not be construed as a sign that she had forgiven and forgotten the whole unfortunate incident.  Quite the contrary, it seemed.  While running through a list of possible responses he was suddenly struck by her casual reference to him being an orphan.    
            “I do not believe I have mentioned my situation,” he said carefully, wondering how much she knew.    
            “No, you have not.  Professor Merrythought told me,” she replied calmly.  “It is silly to worry I would hold something like that against you.”  She touched his arm gently.  “That _is_ why you have avoided telling me more about yourself, is it not?”  Her calm matter of fact manner about it was entirely unexpected; most people expressed unwelcomed pity or looked down on him for being an orphan, as though he had any choice in the matter.    
            “I do not like talking about those things,” he said guardedly.  This in no way approximated the conversation he had planned to have with her as they strolled the grounds.  As the silence stretched between them he could hear the distant crowd roar as the quiddich match started.    
            She turned her head towards the noise, a questioning expression on her face.  She quickly placed the sound and turned her attention back to him.  “I can understand that.  The honey others covet lies inside our scars.”    
            “Is that a quote from something?” he asked softly, watching her face carefully as he added, “it is pretty.”    
            She smiled up at him shyly.  “I am sure it is an approximation from something, but I cannot remember where I might have read it.”    
            “Shall we continue walking?” he asked, motioning along the lake.  She inclined her head in assent and fell into step beside him.    
            They walked together for in companionable silence, each enmeshed in their own thoughts.  He lightly brushed the edges of her mind but found that her defenses were up, the barriers seemingly impenetrable, so he had to settle for furtively observing her.    
            She seemed more at ease outside the castle, or perhaps it was simply in response to the respite from having her every move scrutinized by hundreds of eyes; either way, the controlled tension and stiffness he had observed in her incrementally decreased, giving way to a natural loose-limbed grace.  He didn’t doubt that the control was still in place, it was just the visible effort behind that control that was dissipating.  They both instinctively glanced in the direction of the quiddich pitch when the distant roar of the spectators rose to a new crescendo, but for the most part their fellow students were a distant distraction as unimportant as droning insects.   
            “Do you know Professor Merrythought well?” he finally ventured to ask, watching her carefully from the corner of his eye.    
            “Why do you keep asking me questions to which you already know the answer?” she asked, her tone friendly and light.  She turned to look at him thoughtfully, her expression pleasant and neutral, but he couldn’t help feeling there was something else, closed off behind her eyes – like the windows of a house with the blinds drawn.  She was hiding in plain sight.    
            “Jolene told me she is friends with your grandparents, but it does not necessarily follow that you know her well,” he said.   
            “Jolene told me she told you,” she commented thoughtfully as she watched a robin hopping along the ground on the hunt for its next meal.  “Professor Merrythought is my father and uncle’s godmother so I have known her most of my life, but I would not say I know her well.”    
            Tom reflected on her statement for a moment.  The precision and nuance of her response was interesting, but he’d let that particular line of inquiry rest for the time being; he’d revisit it later, when she was less guarded.    
            “Are your father and uncle skilled at Legilimency as well?  Like their parents?”  
            “I am sure they would be, if they were so inclined,” she said thoughtfully.    
            “But they are not?” he pressed.  
            “You and Professor Dumbledore do not really get on, do you?” she asked abruptly.  
            Her question took him by surprise.  “We do not, _not_ get along,” he paused thoughtfully, “but he has never liked me as much as the other professors seem to.  I do not really know why.”  
            “That is rather unfortunate,” she said, her eyes following the robin as it flew away.  
            “How so?”   
            “From what I can tell, Legilimency is not even mentioned at this school.  I imagine not a lot of people are actually any good at it around here.”  She turned her attention back to him, with a quick, stunning smile before she dropped her eyes and picked at her nails nervously.    
            He impulsively caught hold of her hand and led her towards a nearby fallen log that commanded a beautiful view of the lake and Forbidden Forest.  Upon reaching the log, he conjured a small, plush, rug for them to sit on and carefully laid it out.  He wanted to impress her with his spellwork and chivalry so he plucked a long blade of grass, transfigured it into a fragrant white lily and presented it to her.  Her dazzling smile as she accepted his offering was matched by his own as he sat next to her.    
            Glancing across the lake he picked up the tread of their interrupted conversation.  “No, Legilimency is not particularly common, but I have never met an Occlumens of your caliber before.”  
            She blushed and dropped her eyes at the compliment.  “Perhaps you have.”  She fidgeted with the flower, running her fingertips along the petals’ edges.  “Professor Dumbledore is quite an accomplished Legilimens; I should not be at all surprised if he is also an Occlumens as well.”  
            “Did Professor Merrythought tell you that?”  
            “No, I just… know.”  She watched him shyly through her lashes for a moment before adding, “He has a softer touch than you, but then, he has had decades more practice.”    
            “He used Legilimency on you?” he demanded, oblivious to the hypocrisy of his outrage.  Part of him knew his reaction was disproportionate to the situation, but the thought of anyone – especially Dumbledore – casually perusing her mind made his blood boil; anyone aside from himself, to be more accurate.    
            “I seem to attract that sort of behavior,” she said softly.  
            Startled, he swiftly met her eyes.  She held his gaze for a moment before looking away.  He admired the graceful, pale lines of her throat for a moment before plucking the lily from her nervously writhing fingers and tucking it behind her ear.    
            “I do not know if you even like lilies,” he said softly.    
            She turned back to him but kept her eyes lowered.  “I do.  I love lilies.  They are my favorite flower, followed by jasmine and honeysuckle.  Oleanders are also very pretty but they do not smell quite as nice as the others.”    
            “I cannot say I have ever smelled an oleander,” he commented, trying to catch her eyes.  He wasn’t particularly interested in flowers, but he was absolutely fascinated by her and was perfectly willing to discuss whatever topic she chose so long as it meant they spent more time together.   
            “They are quite pretty – blade-like dark green leaves and the most delicate, papery blossoms; horribly poisonous though.”  She met his eyes briefly before looking away again.  “Would you mind terribly if we headed back now?  I need to write some letters.”    
            He rose to his feet and offered her his arm.  “I would not want to keep you.”  It was the polite response, but it was also a lie.  She briefly met his eyes and he knew that she knew it was a lie.  She slipped her arm through his and they walked towards the castle in companionable silence.    
            She hesitated in the castle’s entryway.  He stopped and turned to her, a questioning look on his face.  She fidgeted and although he was tempted to ask, he held his silence and waited patiently for her to speak.  
            “I will probably be in the library, later – this evening…  If you want to find me, if you do not have anything better to do, that is.”  She bit her lip nervously, took a small step closer to him and whispered, “thank you for the flower.”  She brushed her fingers lightly against his cheek in a hesitant caress that raised gooseflesh all over his body before abruptly turning and walking away.  He felt his lungs burning before he realized he had been holding his breath.  The effect she had on him was inexplicable.  He had to have her.    



	19. Chapter 19

            Jolene paused in her playing to turn a page of the sheet music she was reading.  She really needed to remember to ask Professor Madstone if there was a charm to get the pages to turn on their own, she required both hands to properly play the massive organ.    
            “I can turn pages for you, if you would like,” came a familiar voice from the doorway.    
            Jolene shrieked in surprise and nearly fell off the organ bench.  “Oh! Le, you gave me such a fright!  Don’t creep up on me like that,” she managed to gasp once she had caught her breath.    
            “I am sorry, Jolie,” Leliana said with a small, contrite smile.  She swooped in and quickly hugged Jolene around the shoulders and glanced at the yellowed sheet music she had been playing.  “I doubt you would have heard me if I had been stomping and shouting.”    
            “Probably not,” Jolene admitted with a sigh.  She scooted to one side of the bench to make room for Leliana and watched her from the corner of her eye.  “Where did the flower come from?”  
            Leliana self-consciously removed the lily tucked behind her ear and regarded it thoughtfully.  “Tom gave it me.”  She shot a look at Jolene, “but you already knew that.”    
            “You were gone so long I thought maybe you’d decided to go to the quiddich match, without me, after all,” Jolene said reprovingly.  She hesitated a moment before asking, “how were things with the charming Mr. Riddle?”  
            “Mmm, distracting,” Leliana murmured, regarding the flower thoughtfully.  “Did you know that he’s quite an accomplished Legilimens?”    
            Jolene’s brow puckered thoughtfully.  “That might explain a lot of things.”  She turned and watched Leliana trace a careful finger over the stops.  “Did he tell you?  It may have been empty boasting, you know.”  
            “It was not boasting,” replied Leliana distractedly.    
            “How d’you know?” Jolene asked suspiciously.  
            “I just… know…” Leliana blushed and adverted her eyes, seemingly suddenly fascinated by the organ’s many pipes.    
            Jolene gasped in outrage.  “The cheek!  I hope you slapped him for that.”  When Leliana didn’t respond she vehemently added, “and kicked him in the shins for stealing your letter.”  She sighed.  “Of course you didn’t; you’re too nice to ever do something as common as that.  And I’m too weak to even stand up for myself, much less you.”    
            “I am not that nice,” Leliana said defensively, finally glancing quickly at Jolene before looking away again.  “And you are not weak, you just have a different type of strength.”    
            “What sort would that be?  The doormat kind?” Jolene felt her shoulders slumping and she made a conscious effort to push them back with a quick, envious glance at Leliana’s posture.  _She makes never slouching look so easy_ …  
            “The inherits-the-earth kind,” Leliana said with one of her beautiful smiles.    
            Jolene smiled wryly.  “The meek will only inherit the earth when everyone else is dead and no one wants it anymore.”  
            “Sacrilège!” Leliana teased with a smile.  “What a terrible blasphemer you can be, Jolie.”  
            “Only around you,” Jolene teased back, nudging Leliana playfully.  “Was that letter bad news?” she asked carefully, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.    
            A muscle twitched in Leliana’s jaw before she schooled her face into an expressionless mask, her eyes veiled.  _Very bad news_ , Jolene thought uneasily, turning her attention to the organ’s manuals.  
            “Play a dirge for me Jolie, I have much sadness,” she finally said softly.    
            Jolene thought for a moment before selecting a piece.  It was one she had played so many times over the years she could play it from memory, gliding from movement to movement as easily as breathing.  This organ was much larger than the one she had learned on at her church, with three manuals, a pedalboard a dizzying number of stops and various couplers.  Its casing took up an entire wall, housing rank upon rank of pipes.  It heightened her awareness of how small she was.  Jolene exhaled slowly, letting her mind go completely blank as she placed her fingers gently, lovingly, on the keys; then she started to play and everything else melted away.  
            The first time she had played this piece was the first time she had felt like magic.  It didn’t feel like the music was something she was creating – through motions and repetition – but rather like something being channeled through her, deep magic, old magic, like electricity flowing in a closed circuit through her hands and feet and the massive body of the organ, expressing everything she struggled to say in everyday life with ease and eloquence.  She, usually so invisible and silent, became something of consequence when filtered through the organ; she was seen and heard, if only for the while she played.    
            This time she played more slowly than she usually would have, drawing out and overlapping the notes, swelling them into crescendos before ebbing to whispers, the familiar melody twisting, flowing and reforming through her hands, full-throated with grief and loss and regret.  Jolene took a deep steadying breath as she ushered the final notes into soft, velvety whispers and glanced at the girl sitting next to her.    
            Leliana’s glassy gaze was fixed on some distant point, her face as serene as any marble saint as her tears welled and silently slid down her cheeks before falling into her hands where they lay cradled in her lap.  Jolene shivered, if it hadn’t seemed so crazy she would have sworn the sudden heart stopping cold radiated from Leliana.  
            “ _Théophile is gone.  There is nothing left of him but memories; flesh and bone decaying to dust,” Leliana whispered, her face ashen.  “My aunt,_ Athénaïs, is missing; is she now lying in some shallow, unmarked grave?  How did we come to this?”  Leliana turned to look at Jolene and her eyes were fathomless, dark and empty as the void; looking into them, Jolene felt as though she were weightless and falling, drowning in thick, syrupy grief.  She reached over to touch Leliana’s shoulder and the air surrounding her felt like she was thrusting her hand into ice water.  _Like some wicked enchantment in a fairytale_ , Jolene thought dreamily.  Leliana gasped at her touch, suddenly seeming to come back to herself, and the cold shattered like glass before dissipating.    
            “I am sorry, did you say something?” Leliana asked, wiping the tears from her face with unsteady hands.  “I was lost in the music; you play so well.”  Her smile was brittle around the edges.  
            “No…” Jolene said uncertainly, looking at Leliana in concern.  “Maybe we should head back to the common room; it’s so damp and chilly in this part of the castle,” she suggested uncertainly.  
            “Let us stop by the kitchens on our way back and have some coco.  Nothing is better for chasing away chills,” Leliana suggested with a smile, linking her arm through Jolene’s.  “You look a little pale, are you sure you feel all right, Jolie?”  
            “I’m just cold and a little tired from playing, it’s nothing,” Jolene assured her.  “Coco sounds like an excellent idea.”    



	20. Chapter 20

            Tom leaned back against the headboard of his bed, carefully polishing his wand.  It seems he had picked a very _eventful_ match to miss, but he harbored no regrets; no matter what had happened in quiddich, his time had been better spent speaking with Leliana.  Apparently Hufflepuff had won, but the only thing everyone wanted to talk about was Stubbins’ spectacular accident.  _All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Stubbins together again_ , Astrid had told him, in a sing-song voice, her teeth bared in a particularly predatory smile.  It made him smile just thinking about it; he couldn’t wait to sift through his sleeping housemates memories and watch Stubbins’ fall, over and over and over again.  The only thing that could have made Stubbins’ mini-vacation to St. Mungos more satisfying is if Stubbins had know that _he_ was the one to arrange it all; the look Tom imagined on Stubbins’ face when he learned that piece of information was so deliciously satisfying.  However, it completely defeated the point of arranging things so that nothing could ever be traced back to him if he went about gloating over fallen pawns, but oh how he wanted to in this particular instance…  He set aside the polishing cloth and closed his eyes, conjuring up memories of Leliana from earlier that day – how beautiful she looked in the bathroom, the graceful way she moved outside the castle, the scent of her perfume, the feeling of her fingertips against his cheek.  All his, always and only his.   
            The sounds of his roommates preparing for bed pulled him from his reverie and he was, momentarily, tempted to hex the lot of them before he reigned in his temper.  With an irritated sigh he stood and started preparing for bed.  It was while in the bathroom, mechanically brushing his teeth, that he remembered the strange dream he’d shared with Leliana.  His scalp and spine prickled with excitement as he mentally retraced the events leading up to that extraordinary experience.  He had been thinking of Leliana when he fell asleep; if that was all it took, he’d easily find a way into her dreams virtually every night.  He suddenly couldn’t wait to get back to his dorm and test his new theory.   


_Leliana… Where are you Leliana…_  
            He was sitting on his bed at the orphanage, idly flipping through the OED and trying to teach himself new words while it rained outside.  His window’s frame was warped with age and neglect, allowing water to pool on the shallow sill before it dripped onto the floor below.  
_Drip, drip, drip_.   
            It was grating and distracting.  Tom glance up from the dictionary and frowned at the window while trying to think what he could use to stop water from leaking in; he certainly didn’t want to use any of his clothing – he had hardly enough as it was.  He froze as he heard the tell-tale creak of the floorboards in the hallway just outside of his room.  There was no mistaking that slow, ominous tread.   
            _No, no, no…_  
            “Where did you get that book?” came her voice from the doorway, dry and dusty as dead leaves.   
            Tom took a quick breath to steady himself; there was always a chance she would continue on her way.  His stomach lurched when he turned to respond and saw the folded strap in her hand; there was no hope of her moving on.   
            “Someone left it on the table downstairs, Mrs. Minchin, I swear,” he said as calmly as he could.  His muscles tensed at her purposeful, predatory approach, but he held his ground.  It was a serious tactical error to allow oneself to be backed into corner, he’d seen what happened to the other children when they made that mistake, time and again.   
            “And the Lord said: ‘Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done,’” Mrs. Minchin croaked, unfolding the strap as she approached.  A sudden flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the room, throwing her hawkish features and the strap held tightly in her talon-like hands into nightmarish relief before the hungry shadows rushed back like water through the pierced hull of a sinking ship.  Shadowy tendrils slid down the walls like rivulets of water, soaking into the surface, bleeding, blurring.  The shadows cast by the skeletal bedframe seemed to writhe, like serpents, on the floor.  So many hungry shadows.  And now in the center of the room Mrs. Minchin stalked towards him, hungry as the shadows, only what she hungered for was pain.   
            Tom slid off the bed and stood by the foot.  If he could lure her into coming around the bed he would have a clear line of escape across the bed and out the door.  It was a dangerous game, Minchin had the reflexes of a cat and he very much felt like a mouse being toyed with.   
            “I swear I did not nick it from anyone!  It was just sitting on the table!” he felt a mist of terrified sweat break out across his skin and a ripple of nauseating panic when she snapped the heavy leather strap against itself.   
            “And the Lord said: ‘If I testify about myself, my testimony is not valid.’  You’re a liar, and a thief, Tom Riddle, and you know what happens to liars and thieves in my house.”   
            Apparently logic, honesty or charm weren’t going to help him; he dove across the bed and made a break for the door.  Minchin must have anticipated his escape attempt; she struck so quickly he barely had time to turn his face away from the blow.  The strap caught him across the jaw and struck the corner of his lower lip.  It hurt like hell.  He hardly had time to be grateful it didn’t catch him full in the face before Minchin brought it down again, this time across his back.  The force of the blow staggered him and he dropped to his knees, bracing one hand against the hard floor.  Minchin approached him causally, her arm tensing in preparation for her next strike.  She paused and then a slow, sadistic smile twisted her lips as she stepped on his hand and carefully rolled her weight onto it.  He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his face impassive.  God, it hurt.  He was so afraid; afraid of having his fingers broken, afraid of having them heal twisted and useless, like Peter Margen’s.  
            “Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.”   
            The next blow across his back left him breathless and momentarily overshadowed the burning pain in his hand.  In that moment he hated everything and everyone: her for doing this to him, the rest of the orphanage staff for not stopping her, and his mother for dying and leaving him in this pit, but most of all, he hated himself – for being too slow and stupid to escape and too pathetic and weak to defend himself.  _Someday I’ll have my revenge_ , he thought looking up at her.  _Someday I’ll hurt you more than this_ _and you’ll be so sorry you ever laid a single finger on me_.  Meeting his eyes Minchin chuckled, a rusty, choking sound from low in her throat, almost as though she could read his thoughts and found them amusing.  She drew her arm back for the next blow and in spite of himself Tom cowered and tried to shield his face with his free hand like the child he always was in this nightmare.   
            “No!” came a voice from the doorway, accent low and musical.  The speaker stepped more fully into his line of sight, her body completely enveloped in a pale cloak and her face hidden in the shadows of its deep hood.   
            Mrs. Minchin continued to leer down at him as though the girl was not there.  _She’s not a part of this_ , he suddenly realized watching the approaching figure uneasily.  Distracted by the pale girl, he was totally unprepared for the strap’s impact and a small, sharp cry escaped his unwilling throat before he could choke it back.   
            “Be gone afreet!” the girl commanded reaching out and Mrs. Minchin exploded into streams of inky smoke at her touch.  Her hood fell back as she knelt next to him, soothing the burning pain in his hand with soft caresses of her cool fingers, and he suddenly recognized Leliana.   
            “Cast aside these dark memories,” she said softly, running a soothing hand over the weal the strap had raised across his face.  “Do not dwell in these shadows.”  She leaned closer, running her cold hands over the places the strap had struck him.  He found it strangely soothing, comforting.   
            “Open your eyes,” she whispered in his ear, “awaken from this nightmare and fall into peaceful slumber.”  She drew back from him, seeming to fade away before his very eyes.  “Open your eyes, Tom… Open…”   


            Tom jerked awake to find himself reaching for her, but the only other people in the room were his sleeping roommates.  He rubbed his face and then the knots in his shoulders, hardly noticing how much colder some parts of his body were.  He was so tired; his body felt heavy and his head like it was muffled in layers of cotton wool.  The nightmare usually left him wide awake and furious; he hated the way the memory of that particularly brutal beating manifested in dreams, floating to the surface of his sleeping mind like a rotting corpse in water.  His eyelids felt impossibly heavy and he lay back in his bed, his head scarcely touching the pillow before he had fallen into a deep and blissfully dreamless sleep, his demons momentarily exercised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I've run up against the first unfinished scene, which means y'all get to see how long it takes me to actually write and edit something. In fair warning, it might be a bit because I'm shoulder deep in season 2 of The Garden (my other writing project, and sort of companion to this fic) but the next scene in this fic *is* just about done (probably? maybe?) so it might not be that long at all. I'm terrible at guesstimating these things


	21. Chapter 21

            Astrid sighed and shot a glance at Decimus, who briefly frowned in her direction before turning his attention back to the girl he was chatting with.  _Another pretty face from Ravenclaw, judging by her tie_ , Astrid thought in annoyance.  Professor Slughorn had only started hosting coed supper parties rather recently.  While she was on the short list of girls virtually guaranteed an invitation – prefect, potions wiz and younger sibling to the house’s star quiddich player – Astrid was not particularly thrilled to be there.  However, when a teacher – especially your head of house – invites you to a supper party one can’t really say no.  And so Astrid found herself, sipping a butterbeer, making insincere small talk with useless people from other houses and utterly bored out of her mind.  She was just about to make her excuses and leave when Tom Riddle escorted Leliana Vallen through the door.  Apparently Slughorn had been keeping an eye out for his favorite because he spotted them immediately.   
            “Oh-ho!  I see you managed to persuade her to attend, there’s a good lad,” Slughorn boomed, beaming broadly at Tom.  Leliana looked positively mortified by Slughorn’s greeting; Astrid suspected the only thing keeping her from bolting back out the door was Tom’s vice-like grip on her hand.  _Perhaps this evening won’t be a total waste after all…  
_             Tom smiled easily back at the potions professor as he drew Leliana forward, his hand settling on the small of her back in a possessive gesture immediately understood by most of the people in the room.  
            “There was no persuasion required, professor,” Leliana said smoothly.  “I am honored to receive your invitation.”   
            _Such pretty manners_.  It was impressive how quickly she had regained her composure and her compliment was pitch perfect; Slughorn’s chest swelled with pleasure, straining the shiny buttons of his richly embroidered waistcoat.  The man was almost comically susceptible to flattery.  Julius sidled up to Astrid and nudged his elbow into her side.  
            “Looks like we’ve scored front row seats to the Slughorn interrogation of Leliana Vallen,” he whispered with malicious glee.  “She won’t be the _mysterious_ new girl much longer.”   
            “Careful you don’t underestimate her; she’s clever enough to have gotten Riddle on a string,” Astrid whispered back, keeping an eye on the new arrivals.  Leliana leaned into Tom’s body as she shook Slughorn’s hand, making it virtually impossible for the professor to draw her away from her companion.  _Very clever, indeed_.   
            Julius nearly choked on his butterbeer.  “Mind that Tom doesn’t hear you saying things like that,” he sputtered.  
            “And who’s going to tell him?  You?” Astrid asked, looking Julius over disdainfully.  “Besides, he already knows my views on the subject.”  While not _entirely_ an accurate statement, she was willing to bet Julius wouldn’t pursue the subject.  She was wrong.  
            “Just what are your views on that particular subject?” Julius asked, sidling closer.  
            “Careful, people might start to think we actually like each other,” Astrid said softly, casually slipping her arm through his.  
            “Sean Stone seems to have set his eye on you,” Julius observed dryly.  “Are you sure you want to discard our little deception at this very moment?”   
            “Not at all,” Astrid replied smoothly.  “Promise to sit by me at supper and we’ll have the most _entertaining_ conversation.”   


            Dinner was served after they had all been seated around a large circular table.  Julius and Astrid quickly sat together.  Sean Stone had been watching Astrid all night and was angling for a spot next to her until Julius swooped in and ushered her to the empty seat next to Agnes Tande, an overconfident, but otherwise unobjectionable, Griffindor a year ahead of them.  
            “Sorry mate, this seat is taken,” Julius said with an unapologetic smile up at Stone as he slid into the seat next to her.  
            “Thank you,” Astrid whispered to Julius, who responded with a quick smile before turning to converse with the Hufflepuff sitting next to him.  
            Slughorn steered the conversation with a masterful hand, bringing up areas of common interest and lightly interrogating those who ventured opinions or information.  Naturally, this lead to quite a bit of talking from the Griffindors present.  Astrid held her tongue and did her best to look interested, which was becoming more and more difficult with each interminable course.  She noticed Leliana also remained largely silent, ate very little and deftly avoided Slughorn’s attempts to draw her out conversationally.  She sighed.  _This supper party is a total wasted evening_ , she thought gloomily as Agnes pontificated, at length, on transfiguration beside her.  Apparently Agnes Tande was quite keen on the subject.  _Oh joy of joys…_  
            Surprisingly it was Vince Bastian, the American ambassador’s son, who managed to draw Leliana into conversation and unwittingly created an opening for Slughorn to begin his interrogation.  Vince Bastian, or, more properly, Vincent St. Sebastian, had brown eyes, dark hair, a perpetual tan and a jarring accent.  Astrid hadn’t had many opportunities to observe Bastian before that evening; he was a year older and in a different house – Hufflepuff.   
            “Excuse me,” Vince said leaning towards Leliana, cutting across Argos who was in the middle of a rather long winded monologue regarding quiddich. “Your last name is Vallen, isn’t it?”  
            Leliana nodded, her expression guarded.  Astrid immediately tuned out Agnes.  
            “Are you, by any chance, related to Senator Blacklock’s daughter?  I think I remember hearing somewhere that her mother’s maiden name was Vallen,” Vince asked.  Conversation virtually died on the spot as everyone around the table listened for her answer.  
            “Yes, Tallulah is my father’s cousin; my grandfather’s sister met her husband on holiday in America,” Leliana replied, looking at Vince questioningly.  “Are you well acquainted with her?”  
            “Oh no, nothing of the sort,” Vince said with a laugh.  “That is, I remember seeing Ms. Blacklock when I was very young at a garden party hosted by the Kennedys,” he paused tactfully, “and again when she dropped by our house in the middle of the night last summer.  She certainly knows how to make an impression.”  
            Leliana actually laughed at Bastian’s attempted subtlety, and Astrid caught a glimpse of what Tom might see in her; it was the sort of laugh that made one want to laugh with her.  
            “Life is certainly never dull with Tallulah around.”  Leliana smiled at Bastian, and even though Riddle remained smiling and seemingly carefree, Astrid could see a subtle shift in his posture and she wondered how long it would be before the smiling American had an unfortunate accident of his own.  
            Slughorn seized his opportunity.  “Your grandparents,” he said to Leliana with an encouraging smile, “they were both aurors, weren’t they?  Highly decorated, if I remember correctly – Order of Merlin, first class.”  
            “Yes, they were aurors,” Leliana replied, her face slipping into a serene mask.  Next to her, Riddle clenched his hand into a fist before he caught himself and reached for his goblet with forced casualness.  
            _He doesn’t like Slughorn questioning Leliana,_ Astrid mused, the realization raising more questions than it answered.  She leaned forward, focusing her attention on reading Riddle’s body language; they both knew everyone would be focusing on Leliana and Astrid had a feeling that one wouldn’t let anything slip through her façade, but Riddle was distracted and he just might.  
            “And what does your father do?” Slughorn pressed, keeping his tone friendly and conversational.  
            “He is a healer,” Leliana replied, with a tight smile, “in Londres.”  
            “How splendid; and your mother, what does she do?” Slughorn asked jovially, motioning to the house elves to serve dessert.   
            “My mother does nothing; she died over the last summer.”  Leliana’s voice was icy and brittle; Astrid shivered.  
            “Ehrm, yes,” Slughorn flushed.  “My apologies, dear girl, I forgot.”   
            Leliana did not deign to respond; she merely regarded the older man coldly.  Riddle slid his arm around her shoulders but his touch did nothing to soften her rigid posture.  
            _Apparently Sluggy hit a nerve.  
_             Slughorn coughed delicately and picked up his spoon, motioning for his guests to do the same.  He waited a moment before renewing his interrogation.  “If I recall correctly, Galatea mentioned your uncle is still in occupied France?”  
            Leliana took her time responding, sculpting her ice cream carefully with her spoon.  “Yes,” she said finally, “my uncle is still in France, supporting the resistance.”  
            “That’s very brave of him,” Bastian commented, an odd look on his face.  
            _More like very foolish_ , Astrid thought.  _If he was smart he’d keep a low profile_.  
            “I think so too, but it is as the Maker wills, and if he dies he will be more alive than he has ever been.”  
            Astrid saw Riddle start at Leliana’s cryptic words and she shivered.  _Really, that girl is uncanny_.  Slughorn also seemed taken aback by Leliana’s response, but Astrid recognized the calculating gleam in his eyes.   
            “How so?” Slughorn asked delicately.  
            Leliana looked directly at the professor.  “He is still a Morangias, even in a war zone, that counts for something.”  
            “Oh-ho,” Slughorn said softly, and Astrid heard Agnes’ breath catch beside her.  
            “Thank you for a _lovely_ evening, professor,” Leliana said as she rose from the table, “but I really must be going.  I have so much homework to finish.”  
            “I will escort you back,” Riddle said quickly as he also rose from the table.  “Thank you for an enjoyable evening professor, good night.”  With a shallow bow he strode away from the table, his hand settling on the small of Leliana’s back as they left the room.  
            Slughorn’s thoughtful gaze followed the couple from the room before he returned his attention to his remaining guests and artfully facilitated small talk, but Astrid could tell he was distracted by something, although he was playing his cards very close to the vest.  Agnes, however, was fairly bursting to tell what she knew.  
            “I heard your breath catch, did you recognize that name?” Astrid asked casually, toying with her dessert.  
            “Recognize it?  How could I not?” Agnes exclaimed.  “Guillaume de Morangias is _infamous_ in transfiguration circles, he pushed the boundaries of the discipline further than any other.  They call him _The Vivisectionist_.  D’you suppose it’s the same family?”  
            “I suppose so,” Astrid said distractedly, as she rapidly assimilated the information, “I somehow doubt it’s a very common name.”  She looked over Agnes’ glowing face appraisingly for a moment before adding, “tell me everything.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I warned that I hit an unfinished scene and it would be a while last time, so y'all must think I banged this out in no time... but that's simply not true. While contemplating my unfinished scene I finally 100% decided that the tone of it was off for that particular spot in the story so I reshuffled some scenes and I think it will work better now, once it's finished (and there were a couple other things about the unfinished scene that always bugged me, which are also fixed by moving it a little later, so win/win)


	22. Chapter 22

            “Tom!” Leliana called as she gracefully loped down the hall, her chocolatey curls streaming behind her.  “Tom,” she breathed again when she reached him, snaring the cuff of his robes in her fingers.  “It is my birthday, and the gift I want most is something only you can give me.”  She tilted her head back and regarded him through lowered lashes.  
            “What might that be?” he asked, frozen like a deer in the headlights, heart pounding and his eyes on Leliana’s slightly smiling lips.   
            “This,” Leliana whispered as she leaned forward on tiptoe and kissed him.  
            Her lips were velvety soft and sweet, like a plum so ripe it split its skin to spill nectar.  He felt his arms slip around her as the kiss deepened.  How strange it felt, wonderful and frightening to kiss the willowy girl in his arms.   
            _This is a dream_ , he thought as he felt her cool fingers slid up the back of his neck and through his hair.   
            “Thank you,” she whispered laying her head against his chest.   
            The feeling of her warm breath against his neck as she hugged him raised gooseflesh all over his body.  She smelled like spring - early flowers and weak sunshine with a touch of rain.  He wound strands of her hair through his fingers and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.  
            “I have to go.  Father and Miranda are waiting for me,” she told him ruefully, extracting herself from his arms.  
            “I thought you were staying at Hogwarts for the winter holidays, that your father decided London is too dangerous right now?”  Tom asked as he grudgingly released her.   
            “He did, but we are not going to London.  Apparently we are staying in Scotland.  I am very good with burns and we are going to help at a hospital for muggle soldiers injured in the war.”  Leliana was backing slowly away as she spoke.  Tom kept his grip on her fingers, stepping forward to keep her in reach.   
            “I will walk you to the castle door, at least,” he said falling in step beside her.  “Is it not dangerous to volunteer with muggles?  What if someone sees something?”    
            “We are just administering potions,” she explained.  “We are going to tell them they are drinking ‘health tonics’, which, in a way they really are, just not the sort they are used to.”  
            “I still do not like it.  I am sure, somehow, it violates the International Statute of Secrecy,” he muttered.    
            “Oh no,” Leliana said laughing.  “They are going to send me to Azkaban for administering healing potions to persons in need.”  She laced her fingers more tightly through his and rubbed his arm with her other hand.   “The Ministry has bigger things to worry about than some questionable candy-striping.  I will be fine.  And now I do have to go.”  She cupped his jaw in her free hand and gave him a quick, slightly open mouthed kiss.  “See you next year!” Leliana called over her shoulder as she slipped out the door, leaving him standing alone in the castle’s entrance way, looking after her longingly.  Even though Tom usually loved staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, the castle seemed chillier and gloomier with Leliana gone.

>>><<< 

Letter from Leliana to Tom

_Cher Tom,_  
_I miss you terribly!  It's chilly and dreary this far north.  We get so few hours of daylight, and those are usually muffled by storm clouds!_  
 _Miranda and I have been busy helping Father at the hospital, administering potions and changing bandages.  Many of the men have the most appalling injuries - burns, shrapnel lacerations, lost limbs - truly horrible.  Father lost a patient this morning, to septicemia.  His papers said 18, but I'm fairly certain he lied about his age to "do his bit", he was barely older than us.  He had lost a leg in the field and gangrene had set in the wound.  I can't think of anything that smells worse than gangrene.  In books people always turn green before they get sick.  Not Miranda, she went positively gray at the sight of him and cast her crumpets up in a bedpan.  Father sent us out of the room pretty quickly after that._  
 _I feel so badly for the rank and file men.  Most of them are simple, honest people, who should have lived good, simple lives marrying their sweethearts and worrying about ordinary things.  Instead they get these horrors inflicted on them in the name of the greater good.  I know we are fighting on the right side, that it's important to defend ourselves and those who are weaker and more vulnerable, but I wish the cost of doing right was lower.  I wish people weren't paying with their lives.  That boy, my mother.  So much death and suffering._  
 _I'm sorry this letter is so gloomy.  I had meant to write you something more cheery and affectionate.  It’s almost unbearable how much I miss you!  I hope you miss me terribly too (you'd better!)_  
 _Happy Christmas_  
 _Leliana_

            Tom reread Leliana’s letter, lingering over the first and ending lines, skipping over the middle.  It was out of character for her to be so melancholy, but, selfishly, he was almost glad she was finding the hospital grim.  He did miss her terribly.  The hours crawled and the past week without her felt like watching his life through a grimy windowpane.  He found it unsettling how much her absence affected his mood.  Tom was used to being entirely self sufficient, he had never wanted, much less needed, a companion before in his life.

Letter from Tom to Leliana

_Dear Leliana,_  
_I have missed you too.  Hogwarts is always quiet over the winter holiday, hardly anybody stays.  I've been exploring the empty hallways and spending a lot of time in the library alone, reading._  
 _Christmas dinner was a quiet affair.  Since there are only a handful students here right now, we ate with the teachers at one long table.  As usual, Dumbledor watched me while pretending not to, Slughorn and Dippet shared reminiscences about former students, Merrythought and Kettleburn continued their longstanding disagreement over hippogryphs and Beery drank too much.  All in the spirit of the season though, right?_  
 _I am sorry the hospital has been grim.  My birthday is only a few days away, and what I want more than anything is something only you can give me._  
 _Truly yours,_  
 _Tom_

            The evening of Tom’s birthday a great snowy owl flew into the great hall and dropped a package in front of him before circling back out the way it came.  Curious, Tom cut the string and unfolded the damp paper to find a diary, with a note from Leliana tucked under the front cover.

_Cher Tom,_  
_Every day I walk past the most charming bookshop on my way to and from the hospital.  After receiving your letter it made me think of you, reading alone in the library at Hogwarts, and miss you even more.  Today I went in to see if anything would make an acceptable birthday gift and found this diary.  One day you're going to be a great and famous wizard, so do your future biographers a favor and start keeping a diary of your ascension._  
 _Wishing you a very happy birthday_  
 _Leliana_

            Tom smiled at Leliana’s note.  He had never doubted that he would be the greatest sorcerer in the world, but it felt good to read these words written by Leliana, sharing his belief. 


	23. Chapter 23

            Tom prowled the castle halls impatiently circling past the castle’s entrance every half hour or so.  He knew Leliana wouldn’t be back from the winter holiday until tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, but there was always the off chance she’d return early and he wanted to know as soon as she arrived.  He paused to look out a window overlooking one of the paths to the castle.  Empty.  With a half repressed hiss of frustration he stalked to the Slytherin common room, casting dark, murderous looks at any portrait that ventured to comment on his activities.  Tom entered the common room to find Sean lounging in his favorite chair.  Wordlessly he strode over, eyes narrowed warningly, and Sean quickly vacated the armchair in favor of another.  Tom flung himself into his chair and greeted Sean tersely; social niceties had to be observed after all.  
            “Still not back yet?” Sean ventured, watching Tom out of the corner of his eye.   
            Tom shrugged irritably and drummed his fingers into the chair’s armrest.  It felt good to sit in front of a fire; the castle hallways were drafty and cold.  Tom’s fingers had gone numb from the chill and his legs ached slightly with fatigue, neither of which particularly helped his mood.  He had found another secret passage that appeared to lead out of the castle, but hadn’t fully investigated it yet.  He was sorely tempted to follow it to the end, just in case it led to the Chamber of Secrets, but ultimately decided against it.  Leliana loved exploring and Tom wanted to wait until they could explore it together.  She called it _adventuring_ , which he found strangely charming, and the idea of being pressed against her in dark, narrow passages was also incredibly appealing.  She would be terribly disappointed if he explored his newest discovery without her and she had an uncanny knack for ferreting out the things he tried to hide from her.  He found it surprisingly difficult to deceive her and, even more astonishingly, he felt something alarmingly like guilt when his deceptions were successful.  Guilt was a thoroughly unwelcome and unaccustomed feeling for him; he only felt bad if he was _caught_ in his misdeeds, not for the misdeeds themselves, and never for actually getting away with something.    
            Sean sighed loudly, breaking Tom’s reverie.  
            “What is it?” he snapped at Sean.  
            “I’m just feeling peckish.  It’s bound to be near tea time by now, isn’t it?” Sean said craning his neck to see the clock.  “Bloody hell, I thought time only moved this slow during History of Magic.”  
            “Apparently not,” Tom snapped, slouching lower in his armchair.  Suddenly his stomach rumbled loudly and he realized that he was ravenous.  He sighed and looked over at Sean.  “Shall we go see about getting something for an early tea?  I know where the kitchens are.”  
            Sean sprang out of his chair as if propelled by an enormous spring.    
            “Don’t have to tell me twice.”  
            “Clearly,” Tom replied dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's been AGES (I know!) and this isn't actually a proper chapter AT ALL (I Know!) and I am sorry about that.  
> I've given up trying to decipher my incredibly cryptic outline notes for where I was planning to go with the rest of this particular scene and, as my boss at a previous job used to say, perfect is the enemy of finished   
> enjoy!  
> (next update soon-ish)  
> (totally probably not lying about that)


	24. Chapter 24

            Tom loved the view from the astronomy tower.  He loved looking down on the school grounds, stretching out around him as far as the eye could see; his first and only home.  He loved the green-gray gloam of the Forbidden Forest, the mirror-like surface of the lake, broken only occasionally by the giant squid that dwelled within its depths, and the velvety green grounds of the school itself, extending out past the quiddich pitch, its boundaries framed by the distant mountains and moors.  Beautiful and eternal, untouched by the ravages of time or war.  
            He glanced over to where Leliana was leaning against the railing, her gaze dreamy and unfocused as she watched the sunset reflected in the lake, and admired her long, graceful limbs and the way the generous curves of her bosom and hips tapered dramatically to her tiny waist.  Unsurprisingly, she looked beautiful in the dying sun’s light, the rosy glow warming her creamy skin and highlighting her sable locks with tones of deep russet.  _The prettiest girl in the whole school_ , he thought smugly, _that’s all most of them will ever see_.  He reveled in their envy and admiration, but if she had only been another pretty girl he quickly would have grown bored of her; fortunately she wasn’t.  
            “It is so peaceful here, one can almost forget there is a war going on,” Leliana murmured.  
            “Almost, but then the food reminds them,” he replied with a smile.  
            Her lips quirked with an answering smile and he inched closer to her.  
            “The food is not that bad here,” she said softly, “heavy and rich, but not bad.”  
            “I thought French food was supposed to be heavy and rich?” he asked casually leaning into her.  
            She glanced up at him and smiled, leaning her shoulder into his as she looked out at the lake again.  “Maybe rich, but never heavy.  I would love a good ratatouille with couscous,” she sighed.  
            “Do you feel bad about leaving?”  
            She looked down, her face grave and thoughtful.  
            “No,” she said slowly.  “I know I could not have saved them.  Besides, Hada’s burns required immediate treatment… and Miranda needs me here.  I have an obligation to her, to my father; it is my duty.”  She looked over at him.  “You know how it is.”  
            The truth was he didn’t; he had been acutely aware of being unwanted and alone as long as he could remember.  It wasn’t something he had ever talked about, for fear of being seen as weak, but Leliana was soft and understanding, and she responded very well when she thought he seemed vulnerable.  
            “Actually, I do not know what that is like; I have always been alone,” he replied softly, sliding his eyes away from hers.  The admission sounded better in his head, but saying it out loud made him feel incredibly awkward and exposed as he waited for her response.  
            “That must be terribly lonely.”  She slid closer, resting her head on his shoulder.  
            That she responded with acceptance and understanding, instead of pity, to the unpalatable aspects of his life outside of Hogwarts was one of his favorite things about her.  She couldn’t have known, but he was testing her, letting his masks slip momentarily and gauging her reaction.  The way she kept responding felt unimaginably good, so much so it frightened him.  It made him want her all to himself.  
            “I have never thought so,” he rubbed his cheek against her hair.  “No one to let me down, or hold me back.  Having to depend solely on myself has made me stronger.”  
            “Perhaps,” she conceded thoughtfully.  “But I do not think needing and being needed makes one weak.  I think it makes us stronger, fight harder, because we are not just fighting for ourselves, but for everyone we love.”  She looked up at him somberly.  “Love is a very powerful thing.”  
            “Perhaps.”  He didn’t think much of love, but he hadn’t brought her up to the tower at sunset to argue.  
            “There is a Hogsmead outing this weekend.  Are you going?” he asked casually, as though he had only just remembered.  Asking her to Hogsmead was, more or less, the whole reason he had brought her to the astronomy tower at sunset.  She loved romantic gestures, and they were rarely able to spend time alone, separate houses and all.  
            “I am!  Poor Jolene, last time I dragged her to all the boring shops – books and potion supplies and the like.  This time she made me promise that we would go to The Three Broomsticks and that big candy shop everyone is always going on about.”  She smiled up at him.  “Are you going?  Perhaps we can meet up?”  
_Damn Jolene!_ he thought irritably.  After Stubbins’ second “accident” most of the other interested boys settled for admiring Leliana from afar; the thicker ones got the message after having had “accidents” of their own.  Jolene, however, presented a problem.  As Leliana’s friend and confidant, she couldn’t be warned or bullied away; she was also, thus far, difficult to charm and his efforts had been largely unrewarded.  He was tempted to obliviate both of them, but he had no idea how effective a memory charm, even a strong one, would be on an Occlumens as skilled as Leliana and he didn’t want to risk harming her.  
            “I was hoping that you would go to tea with me?” he said, watching her carefully.  “Just the two of us… on a proper date,” he added emphatically, before she could make any unwelcome suggestions.  
            “Oh, Tom.  That sounds lovely, it really does… but I cannot just abandon Jolene.  We have made plans and it would not be fair of me.”  
            Tom’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.  “I am sure she would understand.”  
            Leliana shook her head.  “No, I am sorry.  I would not feel right about it.”  
            He smiled serenely as he contemplated his next move and drew her more closely against himself.  Naturally, he had to change her mind, but he also had to make it seem like her idea.  
            “I am also sorry we will not be able to have tea together,” he murmured, tone low and regretful as he constructed a corresponding expression.  “I had it all planned out; we would share a pot and learn the minutia of how the other takes their tea and little things like that.  We have never shared a meal, just the two of us, have we?  I have watched you eat from across the room for too long.”  He ran gentle fingertips along her jaw and down the pale column of her throat.  She swallowed unsteadily.  
            “That sounds so lovely,” she whispered.  “Have you really been watching me eat?”  
            “Every meal,” he assured her.  “Do you always eat the things you like least first?”  
            She laughed softly and brushed his forelock back gently, her lips parted in invitation.  
            _Goodnight, Jolene_ , he thought as he languidly kissed Leliana.  She tasted sweet – like victory – idly he wondered how she was going to justify deciding to go to Hogsmead with him instead of Jolene.  She broke their kiss with a sigh and guided his lips to her throat, shivering as he trailed kisses across her skin.  
            “Maker knows I want to go with you,” she murmured.  “But a promise is a promise, and I have already promised to Jolene.”  
            He abruptly stopped kissing her neck and pulled back to scrutinize her face.  She was serious.  She was seriously rejecting him in favor of Jolene.  Rejecting _Him_.  
            “Is that your final answer on this matter?” he inquired stonily and felt a muscle twitch under his left eye from the amount of willpower he was exerting to suppress his frustration.  
            “I do not understand why we cannot meet up and do something together, as a group.  I think that sounds like a lovely outing,” she insisted stubbornly as she took a half step back from him.  
            “I am not interested in spending my valuable leisure time with _Jolene Smythe_ ,” he bit out, eyes narrowing slightly as he noted the marginally increased space between them with displeasure.  
            “I cannot understand why that is; you scarcely even know her!” she shot back, crossing her arms just under her breasts as she drew herself up to her full height.  
            “You do realize that I have had classes with her for only the last four years,” he retorted.  “I think I know her well enough to know whether or not I want to go to Hogsmead with her.”  He squared his shoulders and leaned in slightly so that he towered over her; the top of her heard just reached his shoulder, forcing her to crane her neck back to meet his eyes.  
            “Having classes together for the last four years does not mean you know her!  Can you tell me anything about her family, where she is from, or even what subjects she likes?”  
            “Not really, but then I do not already know those things about you now, do I?” he snapped.  He glowered at her momentarily before abruptly shifting his attention to the still, smooth waters of the lake.  The conversation had deviated, rather disastrously, from how he had planned.  _Time to remove and reevaluate_.  
            “Tom –”  
            “I think it would be best if we both agreed to end this conversation,” he cut her off quickly, tone impersonally polite and cold.  “Just forget I even asked.  Perhaps we will see each other at the Three Broomsticks.  In any event, I do hope you enjoy the outing.”  
            He pushed away from the wall and turned towards the stairs.  
            “Tom –” she repeated.  
            He didn’t turn around; his foot was on the top step.  
            “Tom!”  
            He almost hesitated, almost turned back.  There was something in her voice, a discordant undertone that raised the hair along the back of his neck.  He slowed his descent, giving her time to catch up to him.  
            “Tom, _please_!”  
            She sounded… desperate, traces of anger and fear, and a deluge of _hurt_.  From anyone else it would have been gratifying; from her it was, strangely painful – icy claws of loneliness and abandonment between his ribs, the dry bitterness of regret burning at the back of his throat.  He neared the bottom of the stairs and walked slower.  He almost couldn’t hear her crying anymore.  It should have felt like winning, the thrilling satisfaction he took from a perfectly played move, counter move, check mate.  It didn’t.  He didn’t understand why; he tried to puzzle it out all the way back to his common room.  She hadn’t chased him; he’d walked away, _and she let him_ , he realized with sudden bolt of suffocating fear.  He ran all the way back to the astronomy tower, took the stairs two or three at a time.  The tower was empty and everything slid sideways off kilter with vertigo as his stomach roiled and his lungs burned.  He suddenly realized how badly he’d miscalculated the situation, miscalculated _her_.  
            _What have I done?_


End file.
